


Fortune's Dearest Spite

by Rogue_Bard



Category: October Daye Series - Seanan McGuire
Genre: Child Neglect, Gen, I just really think Amandine is terrible okay?, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-06-07 07:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 58,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15214340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogue_Bard/pseuds/Rogue_Bard
Summary: Simon returns to the Summerlands in the 1960's, and is quite surprised by what he finds there.AKA the Simon raises Toby AU that exactly one person on Tumblr asked for, but the idea just wouldn't leave me alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've got the first four chapters completed, and will be posting a chapter a week.  
> Betaing credit to Faye.Howard, JuniperQFox, and my husband. Thanks to my coworkers who put up with my questions like 'what's a fancy word for porch?'.  
> Spoilers will likely include the Patreon stories as well, I've read everything and at this point I don't know where I read what.  
> Thank you for reading.

_"As a decrepit father takes delight_   
_To see his active child do deeds of youth,_   
_So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,_   
_Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth."_

Sonnet 37

May 10th, 1961

Simon Torquill had barely opened the gate before he decided that this had been a mistake. He had not yet succeeded in finding August, and until he did, Amy would never take him back. Certainly not after what had happened with Oleander. Appearing on her doorstep, hat in hand, would get him no further than it had before. But seeing her, as he had just a few nights before at his brother’s Beltane celebration, had made fresh the yearning cries of his heart. His wife and his daughter were his dearest and only loves. To have one lost to him was unbearable. To have the other choose to send him away when he longed to cling closer had nearly broken him, and had started him down the road he now found himself on. But for a moment at the party, none of that seemed to matter anymore. Amy had looked so beautiful, wearing a spider silk gown that clung and flared in the most perfect places, and generally made her look like Titania reborn. It was enough to make him believe that perhaps things really could be alright again.

“Are you lost?” a small voice asked.

Simon looked down, half expecting to see one of Patrick’s pixie friends. He had been looking in on them since his friend had joined his bride in living under the waves. Instead, he found a girl, her muddy hair and blunt-tipped ears marking her as a changeling, walking around a large hedge to come into view on the path. Despite her blood, she held herself with the formal dignity one expected from a young pure-blood lady. A dignity that dropped suddenly when she caught sight of Simon properly.

“Uncle Sylvester!” She ran to him and flung herself at his chest, where he reflexively caught her, holding her as she began to chatter at him. “Mother isn’t here, and I can’t find her, and there’s not anything left to eat, and I wanted to go find you but I’m not supposed to leave the grounds alone, mother said, she _said_ -.” The girl broke off sharply, pulling away. “You’re not Uncle Sylvester.”

At least now they were getting somewhere. “No, I’m not. I’m here to see Amandine, and perhaps you should as well, if her staff is running off on her. Would you call her down for me?” In spite of himself, Simon smiled softly. He remembered August at that age, complaining that there wasn’t any food in the tower because her mother refused to let her bake more cookies.

The girl backed up further, distrust clouding her face “My mother isn’t here, I just said. Maybe you should leave.”

Simon looked upwards at the tower in confusion. Amy had never led a complicated enough life to require a handmaid or a housekeeper. Could she have taken a new lover, to spite him? But no, his Amy would never lower herself to be with a woman who had played fairy bride and came with a changeling in tow.

“If you do not wish to fetch Amy for me, I will greet her myself.” Simon stepped through the gate, the wards letting him in as they always had since he and Amy had married. He strode up the path toward the tower, winding his way through the familiar garden at its base.

The girl followed, sounding anxious and confused. “How can you get through the wards? No one is supposed to be able to do that without her permission. And I do want to find my mother, but I can’t. I told you that, why aren’t you listening to me?” Her confusion was tinged with anger, but Simon pushed that aside. He was finally here, finally in this place that felt like home, after being away for so long. Nothing else mattered.

He reached the tower, going through the front door and hoping to see Amy. The neatly kept sitting room and kitchen were almost as he remembered, but there was no one there. “Amy?” he called. There was no response. No sound of footsteps. The tower remained silent as a tomb, bringing back all of Simon’s misgivings in a rush. It had been over fifty years, but perhaps that still wasn’t long enough.

“I told you she isn’t here.” The girl said sullenly, having come in behind him. She remained right next to the door, shifting from foot to foot as though she wasn’t sure being inside with him was a good idea. Simon turned to address her.

“I seem to have misunderstood. Your mother and Amy have gone out somewhere, I see that now. Do you know where, and when they will be returning?” Perhaps where they had gone would give him some clue to the nature of their relationship.

The girl looked at him in disbelief. “Stop it. You’re being mean. I told you!” When he only looked at her in confusion she continued. “Amandine is my mother, and she isn’t here. She hasn’t been here since Beltane, she brought me home after the party at Uncle Sylvester’s and then she said she needed to find something. She left and she’s not here and you look like Uncle Sylvester but you aren’t and it’s not fair and I hate you!” The last was yelled with a strangled sob, then the girl burst into tears and crumpled to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest as she cried.

Simon gaped at her in shock, his mind running through all the things this had to mean. Amy couldn’t have a changeling, she wouldn’t. And this girl looked far too thin blooded to be the daughter of a Firstborn. Amy had hidden her heritage for a long time, largely due to the camouflage of the Torquill siblings. But when August was born, Simon knew that she was not pure Daoine Sidhe. It wasn’t until later that he realized she wasn’t at all, and that Amy had changed her, making August more like herself, and less like Simon. He had almost been hurt by it, but then, his daughter was the first born of a Firstborn. What more could he possibly wish for her?

This girl lacked August and Amy’s golden hair and sharp features. She was barely a shade of her mother, and at once, Simon, who arguably knew his wife better than anyone else in the Summerlands, saw why. Amy had made August fully fae, of whatever type of fae she was, and it had gone wrong. If this girl had been born half human, Amy could have shifted her the other way, making a mortal daughter who she could watch live out her short life in the safety of the mortal world. But she hadn’t finished it. This girl was still too fae to walk among humans without a spell to blunt her ears and color her eyes. A spell she was now doubtless poorly equipped to spin. ‘Oh Amy, what have you done?’

Simon thought. The girl was still crying, soft sobs that didn’t sounds distressed so much as they sounded tired. She sounded so very tired, for one so young.

Kneeling beside her, Simon spoke gently. “It appears I’ve listened poorly, and I apologize for that. Would you please tell me again, who you are, and where your mother is?” He clarified as her head came up in indignation at the second question. “Or at least when she left?” She looked at him in silence for a few moments, before scrubbing at the tears on her face with her sleeve. He reached into his pocket and produced a clean linen handkerchief, holding it towards her. She took it, wiping her eyes, then sniffled a bit. Even with all that was going on, she was too well mannered to blow her nose on a stranger’s borrowed handkerchief, it seemed.

“My name is October Daye. Mama- Mother- brought us home from Uncle Sylvester’s party, and she was talking all weird. It’s _fine_ ” she added defensively when Simon quirked his eyebrow in questioning “It’s fine, she just gets weird sometimes, but then it’s fine. And she said she had to go find something, and that I should go to bed. But when I woke up she was still gone. And she hasn’t come back yet. But it’s okay, she does this sometimes, it’s _fine_.”

The girl – October, and wasn’t that something else? They had named August in honor of her aunt September, because Simon had wanted to show her that even if he found her choice of husband to be odd, he would never stop loving her. It had begun a tradition, one that September had continued with her own daughter, January. It had been not twenty years since September had stopped her dancing, driven to reckless grief by all that the war in Silences had taken from her. And who was he to judge actions taken in reckless grief? Who was he to judge, at all?

October looked up at him cautiously, waiting for a response to her litany of insistences that things were fine.

“I appreciate your telling me all that. Now, if I might ask, have you had breakfast?” He expected a simple answer, but instead her face shuttered again, and she continued to regard him silently. Undeterred, he moved over to the kitchen, opening the cold storage cupboard and finding- nothing. Frowning, he opened the pantry. A series of empty glass containers greeted him, the leavings in the bottom making it clear that they had once held things like flour, rice, and oats. Two small, half-sprouted potatoes lurked in the back corner of a low shelf.

Slowly, Simon turned back to October, who was still seated on the floor, knees tucked in to her chest. Her untidy hair had fallen forward into her face, and she looked up through the veil of her hair, eyes following him as he came back across the room towards her.

“October, when did you say your mother left?” He asked carefully.

“Beltane. After the party.” It seemed as though her monologue of a few minutes ago had used up all her words for the moment.

Nine days ago. Nine days of being left alone in the tower, with a dwindling food supply that had finally run out. The illusions on the cellar were still intake, and it didn’t look as though they had been disturbed in months. Simon took a deep breath before asking his next question.

“And the wards, do they stop you from leaving the grounds?”

October drew her lower lip into her mouth to worry it between her teeth for a bit before finally answering. “I don’t know? I think so. If I go out by myself, my head gets all tingly, and then Mama comes to find me, and she was so mad last time. If I’m good she’ll come home soon, right?” This last question was so baldly earnest that it broke Simon’s heart. He loved Amy, but that didn’t mean he was unable to see when she was wrong.

“I’m sure you’ve been very good, October. But if you are with me, you’re not alone, so it should be fine for you to leave the wards, yes?” Letting someone arrive at an idea themselves was always preferable, but he needed to get moving.

Her face stayed pensive. “Why would I leave with you? You still haven’t told me who you are.” Well, that was completely fair.

“My name is Simon. Sylvester is my twin brother, which is why we look alike. I am curious, how did you know so quickly that I was not him?” October rolled her eyes, as though the question was silly.

“You smell wrong. Uncle Sylvester smells like flowers. You smell like apples.” And wasn’t that a curious ability for one with blood so thin to have? It bore further exploration.

“Very astute. The wards let me through because I am an- old friend- of your mother’s. I used to live here, you see. It’s been some time since I’ve seen my brother properly, and I believe I would like to join him for breakfast. I’m quite certain your mother wouldn’t mind if I took you with me.” The last he phrased as a question.

After worrying her lip for a few moments more, October nodded.

“Alright. Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is a bit early, but I've had a really awful day, and I need something nice to happen. So now we start the main format of the story, which is half one POV, half the other. 
> 
> Also, I have mixed feelings about whether I'm making Amandine too terrible, so feedback in that area in particular is appreciated.

Mister Simon had been right about the wards. When they stepped outside the gate together, October’s head started to ache and her vision started to blur, but as they walked further, it stopped. That was good. That meant Mama’s magic agreed with him, and he was an appropriate adult, which meant she wouldn’t get in trouble. It was only a short walk to Uncle Sylvester’s borders, she’d made the trip dozens of times. But never when she was so hungry.

Mama had been saying they needed to get groceries, but then she kept forgetting, and so they were low on practically everything. At first, October had thought that was where her mother had been, when she awoke to a silent tower. She’d made herself bread and jam and went to work on her lessons. But then lunchtime came, and dinner, and Mama still wasn’t home. 

This wasn’t terribly unusual. Sometimes Mama would leave for a few days, and sometimes she would forget to tell October before she left. That was fine, and October had learned not to mention it to Uncle Sylvester. He had gotten a look on his face the one time she had, and October knew he must have spoken to her mother, because she had been cross for days after.

But this time a few days become more than a week, and even though she tried not to eat much, the food in the house had run out completely yesterday. It was just as well that they hadn’t had rice and flour and things to begin with, because she wasn’t allowed to use the stove yet, and you couldn’t eat those things raw. Though if they had them, she would have certainly tried. She had tried, with the potatoes, but it just made her feel sick. 

When the perimeter wards had chimed, October had dashed down from her room, hoping it was her mother returning at last. Instead she found that it was a stranger, and one who looked so much like her uncle that it felt like a trick. All of this was more than her exhausted body and mind could take right now. 

She walked silently beside Mister Simon, focusing all her energy on putting one foot in front of the other. The journey to her Uncle’s lands had never seemed so long. But she had to keep trying, if she wanted Mister Simon to tell her mother that she had been good. Mama would come back, and she’d be happy again, if only October could be good. Ever since they had moved here and left Daddy, nothing October did seemed to be quite good enough to make her mother stop sighing, in that small, disappointed way that she had.

October’s foot caught on a root, and she pitched forward onto the path, her hands coming up too slowly to stop herself from falling. She went sprawling in the dirt, and as she started to push back to her feet, it was clear that her dress had torn, and her legs were scraped up. Now Mama would be disappointed for sure. Staying neat and tidy was important, and so basic that she wasn’t supposed to fail at it, not at her age. Sighing, she went to continue standing, and failed. Frowning, she tried again. Why wouldn’t her arms do what she wanted them to? 

“October?” Mister Simon said, getting on a knee on the ground beside her, “October, are you alright?”

The ground did look really nice. There was a patch of moss just in front of her. If her arms weren’t going to work, she may as well sleep. That seemed reasonable, right? She laid her head down. Mister Simon seemed to be calling her name still. She needed to do what he said. He was a friend of Mama’s, and she didn’t want to disappoint him. But October couldn’t understand what he was saying. Did he need help? That was alright. She could help him better after she’d had a nap.

*****************************

“October?” Simon took October’s arm, shaking it in hopes that she would awaken. He should have realized how weak she would be. Even a fully fae child couldn’t last days without food, and October looked so thin-blooded that he wouldn’t be surprised if her constitution was closer to that of a mortal. Leaning down further, he gathered the girl into his arms. She slumbered on without a peep, dead to the world. Which meant he would be walking into his brother’s knowe holding her limp body.   
That was… less than ideal. 

Despite being twins, Sylvester had always acted as though Simon were the younger by years, rather than minutes. Because Simon chose to protect himself with his tongue and his wits rather than a sword, Sylvester tended to think of him as helpless. This disharmony meant they had never been particularly close, but they had become even more estranged since August’s disappearance and Simon’s various attempts to find her. Despite many invitations, Simon had not come home following September’s death, and that had only deepened the rift between them.

Coming up on the border of his brother’s lands, Simon turned off the main path. A side entrance to Luna’s private gardens laid down a small, wooded trail, if memory served. Simon needed answers about Amy and what she’d done, and that was a family matter. Certainly it was not something the rest of the knowe needed to be hearing and gossiping about.

The bushes ahead of him rustled, then were pushed aside to allow a spiny creature to move forward. One of Luna’s rose goblins. It approached him cautiously, before catching sight of the bundle in his arms and beginning to chitter in outrage. It pawed at his ankles, not blunting its spikes at all, moving as though it was trying to herd him. Absent a better choice – he didn’t dare kick the thing, he was showing up in a precarious enough situation without angering Luna before he’d even seen her – Simon allowed himself to be led. The path wound through roses of all sorts in a meandering way, ending at a tall gate, and Simon had just enough time to wonder how he was going to open it with his hands full when it swung inward, revealing his brother.

Sylvester stood in the gateway with a sword in hand, looking to see who would intrude on his private chambers. On seeing Simon, his expression changed to one of confusion, then turned again to wary coldness when his eyes found October held limp in Simon’s arms.

“Brother, what have you done?” Sylvester asked cautiously.

“What have I done?” Simon asked, falling easily into old patterns of annoyance with his twin. “What have you been doing? Amy clearly isn’t well, she hasn’t been, since-”   
Since August, but he couldn’t say that, not yet. “She’s not fit to care for a child, especially one so fragile. And how in Oberon’s name did that happen? She hardly looks like a half-blood, even a weak one.”

“And you think I haven’t been trying to take care of October? Take care of her, and January, and manage my lands besides? We don’t all have the luxury to run off whenever we please, some of us have responsibilities, though it’s not as if you ever understood that. And now you would make it my fault as well that no one was here to keep your wife in check?” Sylvester’s cheeks reddened with anger, and he seemed about to continue when a voice stopped them both short.

“It’s all well and good to argue like children. But perhaps you should do it when there isn’t an actual child in need of medical care waiting on you?” Luna said, stepping around Sylvester and walking briskly over to Simon, rose goblins chattering and twinning about her ankles. “Yes, my loves. Fetch Jin for me. Go on now,” she said to them, sending them scampering off to obey. 

Reaching Simon, she held out her arms. When he didn’t move to hand October to her she raised an eyebrow. “You two need to talk. October needs to see Jin.” She moved her arms forward firmly, expression implacable.

Simon relented, carefully moving the girl so that her head lolled against Luna’s shoulder. Settling her gently, Luna turned and made her way back through the gate, pausing to look at her husband for a few long moments. They conversed without speaking, in that way that married couples and old friends do. In the way that he, Sylvester, and September once had. In the way that he had never quite managed with Amy. She never seemed to know what he meant, and got frustrated when he was not quick to parse her own expressions.

Nodding once, Luna continued into the knowe, presumably to find the healer his brother employed. October would be well taken care of. That was something, at least.

Turning his gaze back to his brother, Simon sighed. He had started this all wrong. Though he counted his way with words as his greatest weapon, he always felt at a loss where his brother was concerned. At least there was one thing that they could find common ground on, for the moment.

“How long ago did Amy give her the Choice?” Simon asked, hitching his head slightly after Luna to indicate the girl she had carried.

Sylvester smiled ruefully. “She didn’t.” 

At Simon’s questioning look, he continued. “I knew that she’d gone off to the mortal world to have her flirtations. Didn’t think well of it, but I can’t say I blamed her, really. It wasn’t until th- a concerned party brought what she was doing to my attention that I even knew October existed. I found them, then, and gave her the Choice. And Amandine has never forgiven me for that. I don’t know that she ever will. She wanted a mortal child, to live and die in the safety of that world, away from all the madness Faerie can bring.”

“I’d say she’s brought the madness of Faerie with her.” Simon said wryly. “When I came to see her this morning, October said she hadn’t been home since Beltane. More than a week, and that child alone in the house. There may have been some food when Amy left, but there certainly isn’t any left now. She fell, walking here, but I don’t think she actually hurt herself, I think she was just that hungry and tired.”

His brother looked alarmed. “But she could have come here! Ever since they returned to the Summerlands, October’s always been welcome, she must know that.” He looked so distressed that Simon stepped closer in an attempt to comfort him, raising his hand in a placating gesture.

“I’m sure she does. She thought I was you when I first came to the tower, and she was ever so pleased. But she couldn’t leave. Amy had so many layers of bindings on her I’d be surprised if she could even think of leaving. If I hadn’t had the experience I do with her magic, I’m not sure I could have picked them apart. Tell me, has October ever come here by herself before?” He asked.

Sylvester tilted his head in contemplation. “No. No, I suppose she hasn’t. She’s always in Amy’s company, though she’s getting too big to hide in her mother’s skirts for much longer. I hadn’t thought anything odd about it, she’s young yet, and it’s hardly been a few years since they came here.   
She mentioned once that her mother didn’t like her leaving the gardens alone, but after- well, I could hardly blame Amy for wanting to keep an eye on her when she was new here. As time went on, I supposed I assumed she was just shy.” He shook his head “Since Beltane, you said? Oberon’s teeth, she could have died! Does she know where her mother went?”

“If she does, she hasn’t told me. But then I don’t actually know her. She might have more to say to you.” Simon hesitated, looking briefly down at the sword his brother held before saying “I hope I won’t be putting you out in asking to stay until she awakens? I’d like to see she’s alright.”

Sylvester looked startled. “Of course! And where is it you’re planning to leave to after that? If you were at the tower then you’d decided to come home at last. Surely knowing about Amy’s mortal indiscretion doesn’t change that?”

Simon let out a bark of bitter laughter that hurt as it left his chest. “Home to what? A wife who doesn’t wish to see me? Who has never answered my letters? Who vanishes for weeks and years at a time, and now apparently comes back with a child?”

“Yes, a child.” Sylvester said seriously. “A child who, by law, is yours as much as hers.” Simon looked at his brother in disbelief, and as was his wont, Sylvester misjudged the reason for his expression entirely. “Did it really go so wrong last time, that you don’t think there’s anything good you could give a child this time around?” 

Did it really- how could he possibly be asking that? Simon fixed his brother with a heavy, measuring gaze, and held it, until at last Sylvester looked away. “I apologize, brother. I know it pains your heart still, and I was wrong to mention it in such a way. Come in and have some tea. There’s no need to decide anything now. But I won’t have you leaving before you’ve met October properly.” 

Sylvester offered a slight bow that mixed formality with familiarity, and gestured for his brother to come forward through the gate, and into the knowe. After a pause, Simon sighed heavily. He was beginning to remember the aspects of family that he had not been missing in the slightest. With an ironic bow of his own, started down the path, his brother falling into step alongside him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaing credit to Faye.Howard, JuniperQFox, and my husband.

October came awake slowly, which wasn’t unusual given how the last few days had gone. Each day, she felt more and more tired when she got out of bed. But taking stock of herself, October found that she wasn’t tired anymore. She also wasn’t hungry, and it had been days since she hadn’t felt hungry. Given all of this, when she opened her eyes, October was hardly surprised to find that she was not in her bedroom. Clearly something had changed as she slept. The soft yellow sheets she lay between told the rest of the story; she was in Shadowed Hills. Suddenly she remembered her mother’s friend. He’d been bringing her here, and she’d fallen down, and then just gone to sleep! Like a useless, stupid, weak mortal, just like people talked about when her mother brought her to parties. 

October pawed at the blankets, eager to get out of bed. She needed to find Uncle Sylvester. If Mister Simon had come with her, she should be introducing him. You couldn’t just bring people onto other people’s lands without introducing them, it was terrible manners! Mama was always very clear about how important it was to have good manners. Of course, if they looked so much alike, they must be related, which meant that Uncle Sylvester should know Mister Simon already. So maybe it wasn’t rude? October hoped so. She’d never been allowed to visit Shadowed Hills alone before, and she didn’t want to get in trouble first thing.

“She’s awake!” said a small voice to one side of the room. October turned towards it, to find two girls who looked to be her own age standing by the door. One of them had a round face and mussy chestnut colored hair that was tucked behind bluntly pointed ears.The other had sharper features and hair that was striped like a tiger. They both stared at her, looking like they’d been caught out doing something they shouldn’t have been.

“Hello?” October said uncertainly, when it became clear that neither of them intended to say another word. The stripe-haired girl looked like she was about to step forward when another voice came from behind them.

“Stacey! There you are. And now that you’ve seen her, you can take yourself and your kitten friend out of my recovery room. I don’t need you girls underfoot!”Miss Jin, the Elylon that worked for Uncle Sylvester, moved past the girls and into the room as she spoke. If Miss Jin was here, it explained why October felt better. Miss Jin never let anyone be hurt for long. Giggling, the two girls dashed off hand in hand. October looked after them in longing. She thought now that she recognized them, had seen them around the knowe before. But Mama didn’t want her running off when they were away from the tower, so she had never actually met them.

“There now my dear. Plenty of time to introduce yourself to those little scamps later. For now, how are you feeling?” Jin asked, coming to sit on the bed beside her.

“I’m fine, Miss Jin. I’m sorry I was getting in the way.” October said. If Miss Jin didn’t need girls who lived there underfoot, she certainly didn’t need October to bother her.

“Nonsense. Things like that are exactly what I’m here for.” Miss Jin said briskly. “Now, let’s take a look.” Miss Jin held a glowing hand above October’s head, tracing her fingers back and forth in the air for a moment before the glow faded and she settled her hand back on the blankets.

“You seem to have come through just fine, and all that rest did exactly what it should,” she said cheerfully. “Now, what would you say to breakfast?”

“All that-” October repeated softly, before looking at Miss Jin with alarm. “Miss Jin, how long have I been sleeping?”

“Only three days, October. Really, you bounced back muck more quickly than I expected, given-” October cut Miss Jin off.

“Three days? Oh no! I have to go!” She renewed her attempts to get out from under the heavy covers. Three whole days! What if Mama had come back, and October hadn’t been there? Mama would be so disappointed! October knew the rules, she knew that she wasn’t supposed to leave the gardens without permission. If Mister Simon would let her be away from home for this long, he didn’t know the rules, which meant he clearly wasn’t an appropriate adult, and she should never have left with him in the first place. Oh this was terrible. Mama was going to be so, so very disappointed with her.

“October! Calm down.” Miss Jin said firmly. “You most certainly do not have to go anywhere. You were unwell, and so your uncle is taking care of you. And right now, being taken care of means staying calm, and having some breakfast.” 

October stopped struggling. This was all very confusing. She’d broken so many rules, but she was here now, and it would also be breaking the rules to disobey Miss Jin. Healers spoke for the landholder with regard to their patients, and you could never, never go against someone in their own knowe. If she obeyed Miss Jin, she was also obeying Uncle Sylvester, and maybe that meant she still had the chance to make Mama proud. She was always supposed to be on her best behavior in other people’s homes, because her behavior reflected on her mother.

October took a deep breath. It would be alright. She could fix this, and prove that she could be better. Looking down, she confirmed what the texture of clothing against her skin had told her; someone had changed her clothes while she was sleeping.

“Am I having breakfast here, or with Uncle Sylvester and Aunt Luna?” she asked, trying to sound calm and controlled and grown up. Maybe it worked, because Miss Jin was looking at her differently now.

“You’re to join the family for breakfast in the garden. I know they will be very happy to see you are well again.” Miss Jin answered, her expression oddly cautious. She was probably worried that October was going to try to run around and make trouble, but that was okay. October had time to prove her wrong.

“Okay, then I need to get dressed. Do you know where my clothes went?” The room she was in was clearly for medical patients, not a guest room; there was no wardrobe or bureau, and nothing hung on the wall.

“I’ll fetch you a robe, that will do fine. I believe that your clothes are still with the Hobs. There was a fair amount of mud removal and mending needed. They should be ready soon.” Miss Jin stood and left, and October finally moved to stand as well. 

She’d torn her dress! That was irresponsible. She was supposed to take care of her things, it was one of the rules. But the Hobs wouldn’t mind fixing it. They were always nice. October remembered suddenly that that was where she had seen the chestnut-haired girl before, when she had gotten grubby in Aunt Luna’s garden and her mother had sent her to the kitchens to clean up. Maybe she would be able to formally meet her? It would be nice to know some other people who were her own age. She had asked once before, but Mama had gotten sad, and for days after she’d been very intent on proving that she was all October needed to be happy. October had liked that, because it meant Mama was paying attention her her, and only her, for days. But she'd also felt guilty, because she had liked something that had come from Mama being sad. So maybe meeting those girls wouldn’t be such a good idea after all.

Miss Jin returned with a light blue robe with yellow trims laid over her arm. She helped October into the robe, which was soft and warm, and smelled like roses. Miss Jin tugged at the collar a bit, and then nodded in satisfaction. “Alright. Let’s get you to your uncle.” She took October’s hand, and set off into the knowe.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Simon stood at the edge of the veranda, showing more interest in roses then he ever had in his life. If he was looking intently at the roses, Luna would scold Sylvester if he tried to strike up a conversation, and that meant there were fewer chances for the brothers to argue. The topic of October has seemed safe at first, but it had inevitably led to the topic of August, and Simon was still so angry. Angry at Sylvester for encouraging August on the foolish path of heroism. Angry at August for being foolish enough to ignore Her father when he told her to leave such quests for others. Angry at Amandine for sending him away, rather than searching together with him. Angry at his sworn mistress, who had not yet delivered on her promise to find his daughter in exchange for his service. And most of all, angry at himself.

Simon took so much pride in thinking of himself as clever and diplomatic, able to talk his way through anything. It allowed him to think himself superior to his brother, who always reached first for a sword. Yet when it had truly mattered, he hadn’t been able to communicate properly with anyone. August was gone, Amy had left him, and his mistrust of his current employer grew greater as each day passed. It was difficult. Every time he came near to her, he seemed to forget why he had had questions. He still knew he had them, they just didn’t seem important. And now, even if he did wish to speak to Sylvester about the trouble he’d found himself in, he wasn’t able to. The geas made sure of that. But in truth, it wouldn’t have mattered. Simon could never bring himself to admit that he’d failed, again. Especially not to his brother.

So they argued, that first day. Said things they shouldn’t have, things Simon now regretted and was sure Sylvester did as well. He’d tried to leave after that. Obviously Sylvester was wrong. There was nothing for him here, and no reason for him to remain and bring more trouble with him. But Luna had insisted he stay, saying that he’d been granted three days of hospitality, and by Oberon he was going to stay for that time, whether he meant to be a part of this family again or not. Unwilling to risk his sister-in-law’s enmity over such a small matter, Simon had remained, and both he and Sylvester had made sure to stay away from potentially volatile topics. Instead their conversation was stilted, centering on weather, or changes that were needed to the architecture of the knowe. Simon knew the rough peace couldn’t sustain itself for long, but a few days? Surely they could both manage that.

This breakfast marked the start of the third day. He could leave this time tomorrow, having done as Luna had asked. Leave, and go back to his lady, letting whatever magic she worked soothe the rough edges of his doubts and fears, as it always did. Go forward with whatever tasks she set before him with the strengthened resolve that always came from being in her presence. It would be easy.

A scuffling noise behind him caused Simon to turn towards the main part of the porch. Sylvester and Luna sat at the breakfast table, where they had been talking quietly. The Elylon healer that his brother employed stood in the doorway. At her side stood October, wearing an overly large robe, the ill fit causing her to look even more young and vulnerable. She looked uncertainly between Simon and Sylvester, as if she wasn’t quite sure who was who. And she probably wasn’t.

“October!” Sylvester said joyfully. That was enough to decide it. She ran to him and looked like she was going to fling herself into her arms as she had with Simon when she thought he was his brother, when suddenly she stopped short, eyes wide. She curtsied carefully, her form shaky and untrained, to both Sylvester and Luna.

“I’m grateful for your hospitality, Uncle. But I need to get home. Mama’s not going to know where I am. She’ll be worried.” October sounded like she was trying, so very hard, to be grown up. In that moment, she sounded so much like August that it hurt. He wasn’t sure what could have driven Amy to mistreat her second daughter in such a fashion, but he was suddenly filled with a deep desire to keep October from being hurt like that again.

Sylvester sighed deeply. “October, we’ve been keeping an eye to the tower for just that reason. Your mother has still not been home, and it’s been almost two weeks now. I don’t believe it will be safe for you to go back by yourself, not until she’s returned. How would you like to come stay here with me for a bit?” 

October’s eyes widened, her formal façade crumbling as her face fell and she started stammering protestations. "But I- I'm not- I’m supposed to stay at the tower. That’s the rule, Mama will be so disappointed when she comes home if I’ve been breaking the rules.” Damn you Amy, Simon thought bitterly as he stepped towards the table. 

“That’s alright.” He said, drawing the attention of both October and his brother. “Weren’t you just saying that it’s time I return home, brother? If I’m to stay and wait for Amy, then of course I should do so at the tower. And as long as I’m staying there, there’s no reason October shouldn’t be able to live there as well.”

Sylvester looked surprised at this sudden change of plans, and seemed about to speak, but October got there first. “I don’t think Mama would like guests staying in the house when she’s not there. Maybe you should stay with Uncle Sylvester until she can give permission.” A bit of her formal certainty edged back into her tone. 

By now Simon’s steps had brought him even with the table, and he turned out a chair and sat, putting himself on a level with October before addressing her. “I’m sure she wouldn’t like unattended guests, but I’m not a guest. I live there as well. Oh, I’ve been away for a while,” he added, overriding the protest that gathered on her lips, “but I live there all the same. You see, October, before you were born, your mother and I were married. Which means you and I are related as well, after a fashion, and I’m perfectly happy to make sure you’re taken care of in your own home until your mother returns.” 

October looked at him, curious confusion on her face. She turned to Sylvester. “Is that true?” she asked.

Sylvester still looked as though he wasn’t quite sure what turn events had taken, to arrive where they were. That was alright. It was a look Simon was well used to on his brother’s face, and it always amused him to be the one who put it there.

“It is true, yes. I’m your uncle because your mother is married to my brother.” He gestured towards Simon, “And I’m sure it would be just fine for Simon to stay in the tower with you. We’ll just have to work out the particulars.” At this, Luna coughed pointedly. “Ah yes. But first, breakfast!” Sylvester declared, pulling out the empty chair between Simon and himself. October still looked lost, but for the moment hunger won out over confusion, and she sat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to Faye.Howard, juniperqfox, and my husband.  
> This update is a bit late, because I'm on vacation. Sorry!

**Chapter 4**

June 3, 1961

They had a root cellar. That was one of the first things Simon had shown October when they returned to the tower two weeks earlier. The door was hidden on a patch of the kitchen wall that had been enchanted to look plain, with no shelves or decoration. It had always been there, hidden and locked, and October had never known. It made her sad to think that Mama didn’t trust her, not even in their own home.

Learning the secret of the root cellar had helped the tower to feel more like home with Mister Simon in it. It was still very strange to get up in the morning and find him there, and her mother gone. It would be one whole month tomorrow, and still no sight nor word from Mama. Mister Simon kept telling her not to worry, but he seemed to be worried too, so that didn’t mean anything. Adults never wanted you to worry about anything, and they never wanted to acknowledge when they were worried.

October had spent the last weeks in an odd dance with Mister Simon. He did seem to want her around, and that was nice. But he didn’t know the rules of the house, and sometimes when she tried to tell him he would just get that quiet, pinched look on his face. She learned last week that it didn’t mean he was cross, as she had first assumed. She heard him talking to Uncle Sylvester about some of the things she had said that made him look at her like that, and she realized what the expression was. It was sadness. And that was stupid, and it didn’t make sense. If he’d lived with Mama before, if they had been married like he said, then he should know the rules. Why would he feel bad for her having to follow them? Though of course, the rules were probably different when there were only adults living in the house, so perhaps that explained it.

The awkwardness between her and Mister Simon meant that they were both spending more time at Shadowed Hills than October had in all the time since she and her mother moved to the Summerlands. Instead of paying formal calls, Mister Simon would come to visit as he felt like it, talking to Uncle Sylvester and Aunt Luna. October did not have to stay with them and be well mannered and drink tea; she was allowed to leave and do whatever she wanted.

The first thing that she did was go down to the kitchens in search of the girls who had woken her when she was in the recovery room. The girl with the striped hair hadn’t been there, but the other girl had, and she was delighted that October had come back. Her name was Stacey, and she was a changeling, just like October. It was the first time October had ever really met another changeling enough to talk to them, and the fact that Stacey was her age made it even better. All of Mama’s friends were pureblood, and none of them had children. Stacey was happy to introduce October to her other changeling friend, Kerry, and together they had shown October all the secrets of the knowe that they had discovered over the years they had spent living there. October in turn was able to teach Stacey and Kerry how to ask the knowe for help when they got lost.

When October had first moved to the Summerlands, Mama hadn’t wanted to leave the tower at all for quite some time. October wasn’t sure why she was so sad about living in the tower. Not that October wasn’t sad as well, but she was sad because she missed Daddy. The first time she’d asked Mama when he was going to come see them, Mama had sent October to her room without supper, and then the next morning pretended like the whole thing hadn’t happened. October had waited as long as she felt she could before asking again, but she couldn’t wait forever. Daddy was going to be worried that he couldn’t find them. The second time she asked, Mama got quiet. Then she pulled October into her lap, in a way she hasn’t done since they moved to the tower, and explained to her that when their old house had burned, Daddy had not gotten out. He couldn’t come visit because he was dead.

Once October understood why Mama hadn’t wanted to tell her, she didn’t ask about Daddy anymore. She didn’t try to ask about her friends in the mortal world. She didn’t ask much of anything, for a while.

The first time Mama had brought them both to Shadowed Hills, October had stayed as close to her mother as she could. She didn’t know Uncle Sylvester yet, and she didn’t think she liked him. Her family had been happy before he showed up. But time wore on, and Mama had helped October begin to understand what her Choice had really meant. Her life would have changed, with or without Uncle Sylvester. The change had come from the Choice, and the Choice had been hers. She had brought all of this on them, herself. No wonder Mama couldn’t stand to look at her, some days. 

In contrast, it felt sometimes like Mister Simon did nothing but look at her, when they were by themselves. He seemed worried that she was going to hurt herself just by breathing, and treated her like she was made of glass. That, she supposed, she had brought on herself as well, having fainted the first time they met. But honestly, Jin had fixed her, and if Mister Simon didn’t realize soon that she wasn’t going to die of stubbed toes, slammed fingers, or any of the other dozens of mishaps that filled a clumsy girl’s day, October was going to run away to Kerry’s.

That was perhaps the strangest thing about living with Mister Simon. Not that October was able to leave the gardens; that was nice, and it wasn’t as though she strayed far, or went anywhere without saying. She knew the rules, and she didn’t want to spoil her newfound freedom by making Mister Simon worry. But just knowing that she could go outside the fence somehow made everything seem lighter. The real oddness was in thinking about running off. It was confusing to think back on now, but October could swear she had never thought of it before. Not even on the rare occasions when her mother’s disapproval took the form of shouting, rather than remoteness. Not even when she had been left alone in a house with no food that she could find.

Now she realized that she felt almost as much at home with Aunt Luna, and so why not go visit her, when Mister Simon and his staring got annoying? She wouldn’t actually do it, but just the thought filled her chest with the warm, sweet weight of a forbidden secret. The only thing sweeter than having a secret was having someone to share it with, October thought, as she wound through the back halls of Shadowed Hills. She’d been left here today with Uncle Sylvester while Mister Simon went off on an errand.

Coming around a corner, October found Stacy, standing together with her friend with the tiger-striped hair.

“October, hi! This is Julie. Jules, this is October.” Stacy took a half step back as she finished speaking, allowing space for Julie to look at her new friend. Julie looked October up and down critically, as though she hadn’t quite decided what she thought of her. She cocked her head slightly, slit pupils staring unblinking at October for a long few long, silent moments.

“You don’t look like an October,” Julie said finally. “That name seems too big for you, like Juliette is too big for me.” October looked at her, bewildered.

“It’s the only name I’ve got,” she replied, slightly indignant. “There’s nothing wrong with it. The Duke’s other niece is named for a month too. I’m in excellent company.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Julie said with a roll of her eyes. “I just mean it seems like too much name for who you are. There’s nothing wrong with it. It just is. Maybe you’re an Octio? Or a Bera?” October wrinkled her nose. Neither of those sounded like anything she wanted to be called.

“Those aren’t even words, dummy.” Stacy retorted. Now she too looked carefully at October, parsing sounds under her breath. “What about Toby? That’s an actual name, not something I just made up.” With this last she stuck her tongue out at Julie.

“It’s a _boy’s_ name” Julie said, sticking her tongue out in turn. “It’s not-”

“I like it,” October interjected. “I think it’s nice.” It was clear they were both dead set on this, and she needed to pick something, before their ideas got really weird. Plus, she actually did like Toby. Mama was always telling her how she needed to be, and she was working on it. To be. Toby. A work in progress. Yes, that suited her just fine.

 

* * *

 

If there was one thing Simon hated, it was feeling unintelligent. He was over 400 years old, and he had already raised one child. How he had apparently retained so little of the experience that he now found himself stumbling at every turn was a mystery. Absent other options, he blamed Amandine. Oh, he loved Amy with all his heart, and he didn’t think he’d ever stop. But there was loving someone, and there was liking them. And right now, he kept learning things that caused him to dislike Amy a great deal.

Things were also likely much simpler when you were raising a child from the beginning. Most of the conflicts he found himself having with October stemmed from her trying to follow rules that Simon didn’t know existed. When he disagreed with the rules, October took it as him saying that her mother was wrong, and she got protective and stubborn. The worst part was that it all stemmed from her trying to be well behaved, and so he didn’t feel he could actually scold her for it.

Honestly, he didn’t want to scold her for much of anything, given that his current goal in getting close to her seemed to involve finding a different way to communicate altogether. October seemed to weigh every move she made against the likelihood that it would disappoint the adults in her life, which in turn would disappoint her mother. This was a problem because from what Sylvester had said, the primary thing that has disappointed Amandine was that October existed at all, in her changeling form. It baffled Simon.

He knew that Amandine had no compunctions against changing the blood of her children. August had been shifted before her birth to become fully Dochas Sidhe, a fact Simon had not even realized until she was almost 10 years old. He had been attempting to work on illusions with her, and not understanding why that which came so easily to him would be such a struggle for his daughter. Amy had laughed, and said that August’s magic would have other strengths, better suited to her bloodline. And of course, once he got past his surprise, Simon had agreed that Amy must know best, and moved on. There were other things he could share with his little girl.

Giving a child a different kind of magic was one thing. Taking it away entirely was another, and it didn’t seem healthy. The change made in August had been so natural that Amy was able to accomplish it in the womb. Clearly the same had not worked with October. Her body must have fought the change; it was the only reason he could think of for it to not have been completed by now.

And perhaps due to her human blood, for October, the change had hurt.

Four nights into his stay at the tower, sleeping in the guest level because he could not bear to return to his and Amy’s bed alone, Simon had heard a noise from above him. When he went to check on October, she was clearly having a nightmare. She lay twitching in her bed, the air acrid with the smell of sweat and terror. He was debating how best to wake her when the words ‘ _Mama, please. I don’t want to_ ’ came from her lips in a pained whisper. At this he strode over to break her from the dream as quickly as possible, and was barely surprised when she flinched violently from the grip on her arm. She woke for a moment, looked up at him sleepily, smiled shyly, and rolled over to go back to sleep.

He stood watching her for almost an hour that night, putting pieces together in his mind, thinking of questions to ask Sylvester, wondering what he could safely ask October. He’d pondered, and waited, and finally asked his questions. That was the source of his current conflict with her. She reacted very defensively to any indication that her mother had done something wrong. Of course she did. She’d built her entire world around making Amandine happy, and if that was wrong, so was she.

Simon had originally planned to stay only for a few weeks. If Amy wasn’t home by then, October could live with Sylvester. She was making friends in the knowe already. It would be perfect. But the longer he stayed, the more he wanted to actually _stay_. October felt like a new chance, a chance to raise a girl who would be able to protect herself as August had not. Simon had never worried about imparting his skills to his daughter. She was the first borne of a Firstborn. Her talents were for Amy to nurture. Perhaps that had been his first mistake, first in the long line that had followed.

When his lady had summoned him, his internal debate of what to do next was put on a heavily advanced timeline. He knew that he would do as she wanted, once she asked. Perhaps it was better not to see her, to ensure that she didn’t have the opportunity ask? But she made her home in the same city as his brother. In the same city as October. If Simon wished to stay with October, he couldn’t possibly do it without his employer’s blessing. And why would she give it? October was only a changeling. She meant nothing to a woman like her. In previous conversations, Simon had gathered the impression that she was generally baffled that changelings could mean anything to anyone. Simon tended to agree, and had spent years quieting the place inside himself that tried to shame him as a hypocrite for thinking such things.

In the end, there was nothing for it. He had to see her, and his only recourse was to ask for what he wanted. The time had come to prove that he was not so out of practice at turning others to his will. He could do this; he just needed to concentrate, and to try.

The door to the parlor of Countess Evening Winterrose opened, and there she stood in the doorway, beckoning him from his place in the hall. Only when they were seated in her rooms and she had poured them both drinks did she turn the full weight of her gaze on him. As always, there was a brief moment where he felt like he was being suffocated by the weight of it, before the pressure mellowed to a warm, thick sweetness. It was like trying to think while breathing sugar syrup. 

“You’ve kept me waiting,” she said, patient as a schoolmarm. “One would almost think you wished to avoid me.” No, that wasn’t it at all! How on earth could she think he would wish to avoid her presence, when the very sight of her brought all to rights and balance in his world?

“Can a simple tree wish to avoid the sun, my lady? I do so apologize for my lateness, I’ve been much entangled in personal affairs of late.” He rushed to reassure her.

“Personal? And here I thought it was I you were depending on to assist in untangling these _personal affairs_ that weigh on you?” Evening raised an eyebrow. Oh, this was alright then. All a misunderstanding, which was easily set to rights.

“I of course trust your better judgement in all matters regarding finding my daughter. This is been- that is to say- are you aware that Amy has a changeling?” What on earth was wrong with him? He was never this easily flustered, but each meeting with her left him as tongue tied as a man of decades rather than centuries. But certainly she was too infinitely gracious to mind, and perhaps it would only make him seem more sincere? He hoped it would.

“Of course. My sister invited me to visit the child, shortly after she was born. A bit plain, but what can you do?” Evening went silent, prompting him with a look to continue.

“Indeed, my lady. When I went of late to visit my wife, I found that she has removed herself to parts unknown, and done this without seeing to October’s care. Whatever my opinion of my wife’s choices,” and here he did not have to hide a sneer; the law may be what it was, but the betrayal still stung, “by right of law, she is my child as well, and so I have been ensuring that she is looked after.” Finishing his explanation, he waited. Either she would accept this or she would not. There was nothing more he could say. The frantic corner of his mind that reminded him of his duty, that he was honored to serve so splendid a lady, was growing louder.

To his utter shock, Evening’s face cleared to a pleased smile.

“Family is of course the most important thing any of us has. Who can say what temporary madness may have caused Amy to forget? She is very fortunate indeed that you are there to care for my niece. I’m sure when she returns she will thank you for this. Perhaps even- well, who can say? But I certainly understand how important this is.” She leaned forward and took Simon’s hands in her own, looking at him intently as she continued. “My niece is very dear to me, and I’m so pleased to know that she will be in good hands. Being a changeling in this world is difficult, particularly in the circles Amy tends to run in. October will need all the skills you can hope to impart.”

Sitting back, she kept her hold on one of Simon’s hands. Simon allowed his mouth to gape in a highly uncivilized fashion, feeling as though he had been slapped with a fish. He had expected to need to convince Evening that he should be allowed to stay with October. And already his mind told him how ridiculous the idea was that he should fight his lady on any point. Of course she understood what he needed in all things, better than he did himself. If this was what he should be doing, she would know that.

“I should like it if you would bring her to meet me, on occasion.” Evening said. “It’s only right that October should come to know all parts of her family, even if tradition dictates I not tell her of our familial relation.”

Simon drew her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Of course, my lady. I’m sure she will love having the chance to learn from you,” Simon said, eyes going soft in adoration. Who wouldn’t like the chance to be in his marvelous lady’s presence, after all?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so overwhelmed by the positive response to Evening in the last chapter! I was nervous about writing her, so thank you all. This chapter is the first time skip, and after this things will move through the months and years, so just be aware of the dates at the top of the chapter.  
> Beta credit to juniperqfox and my husband, and I would just like to say that neither they nor Word told me that I misspelled 'glamorous' twice in the first two lines to the story, so there.

May 1, 1965

“I’m so jealous, it’s going to be so very completely glamorous!” Kerry squealed, clapping her hands in excitement.

“I think ‘glamorous’ is Kerry’s new word of the day.” Julie said, in that teasing tone of eye-rolling aloofness that only Cait Sidhe seemed to manage, in Toby’s experience.

“It’s going to be a limp disaster, if you don’t sit still and let me finish, is what it’s going to be.” Stacy said in annoyance, tugging a section of Toby’s hair sharply to get her friend to stop moving her head.

Ever since Simon had announced that they would be attending the Queen of the Mists’ Beltane celebration, rather than Uncle Sylvester’s party, as they usually did, Toby hadn’t quite known what to do with herself.  She still didn’t understand the point. Yes, being invited to the Queen’s court was an honor and all, but her friends would be at Uncle Sylvester’s party. Kerry’s mom’s peppermint brownies would be at the other party. What honor could possibly be more important than peppermint brownies?

But of course she was being simple and impractical. She was simple and impractical quite often, especially about court things, according to Lady Evening. Lady Evening was one of Simon and Mother’s friends, and sometimes Simon brought her with him to Goldengreen, Lady Evening’s County. Everything there was much more formal than it was in Shadowed Hills. Even when Uncle Sylvester was holding court, he still talked to everyone like he knew them.

Lady Evening only talked to some people like that. It had taken Toby a long time to notice, because she and Simon were two of the people that she acted like she knew. It wasn’t until Toby heard her talking to the servants that she heard the difference. The distance. It was weird, and she didn’t like it. But you couldn’t tell people that they were wrong in their own house, so she kept it to herself.

If she offended Lady Evening, Simon would be upset. He was good friends with her, and she clearly meant a lot to him. The way he looked at her sometimes, Toby had to wonder if he wasn’t planning to start courting her sometime in the future. And that would be terrible. Visiting Lady Evening was fine, but Toby had read plenty of stories. She knew the type of person who became a wicked stepmother, given the circumstances. And that hit on another trouble she’d been having. If Simon did marry Lady Evening, would that make her Toby’s stepmother? And if so, what did that make Simon? Toby couldn’t call him Mister Simon anymore, it made her sound like a child. She’d tried ‘Simon’ aloud once, and it just sounded wrong. For months now, she’d been avoiding calling him anything 

Several months ago, when Toby first realized this was becoming a problem, she, Stacy, and Kerry had been visiting the tea gardens to see Mother’s friend Lily and play amongst the trees. It had been the first warm day of the year, when a strange turn of February tried to trick you into believing that spring had come early. The girls had gone down by the old theater and pulled Julie away from whatever Cait Sidhe things she was supposed to be doing. They had run around for almost an hour, before Julie’s Uncle Tybalt had come to fetch her, scowling at the other girls as he dragged them back to Lily and told her to keep them from causing trouble on his lands.

Lily had made them all sit through a very long formal tea ceremony, and by the time Kerry’s mom came to pick them up, Lily seemed to have forgotten that she was supposed to inform their parents of this new restriction. No one reminded her, and they had been avoiding the topic, and the Court of Cats, ever since.

Toby desperately did not want to tell Simon that she’d gotten in trouble with someone from a whole other court. She’d been working hard, with him and Lady Evening and Sir Etienne, to learn how to behave with nobles. The fact that he wanted to bring her to the Queen’s court meant he thought she was doing a good job. Angering a king was not doing a good job by any measure, and she didn’t want him to be so disappointed that he would leave, like her mother.

So she kept it to herself, and she kept her growing confusion about Simon to herself as well. Four years was a very long time. It was a full quarter of her life. And for that whole time, her mother had not come home, and Simon had been raising her. She knew more about the laws of Faerie now. She knew that her mother had never divorced Simon, and that Mother’s marriage to Daddy didn’t count legally, not in Faerie, because Daddy had been mortal. That meant that depending on who you asked, Simon wasn’t just her stepfather- he _was_ her father. But what did that mean for them? He hadn’t asked to have a daughter, and that was a lot of responsibility to stick a person with without their permission.

She used to think all the time that he was going to leave, like Mother had. He went on all manner of trips, and he didn’t tell her where he was going, most of the time. But he had always made sure that Uncle Sylvester knew he was leaving, always made sure Toby had a place to stay. And he always, always came back. Usually with a little trinket from his travels. The first time he had done this Toby could barely contain her surprise. Presents meant that someone was thinking about you, even when you weren’t there with them. She hadn’t expected it, and now, more and more, she found herself wondering what it meant.

Toby was worried that he thought she was mad at him, because she had been avoiding talking to him even when he wasn’t on trips, whenever she could. That was hard, because he gave her lessons on manners and magic, and was just generally there all the time.  But she didn’t know what else to do, because the more often she talked to him, the more likely it was that she would have to call him something, and she simply didn’t know what that should be.

Maybe going to a new court with him was a blessing in disguise. He would have to introduce her, and that would mean clarifying their relationship. Was he her uncle? Maybe, but it didn’t sound quite right. Perhaps there was a whole set of terms that she was yet unfamiliar with for their relationship, in Faerie. Maybe this party meant that she would finally find out what she was supposed to be, for him. She knew what Mother had wanted her to be, but ever since she had left, things had stopped being so simple.

* * *

 

The court of the Queen of the Mists was as eye-rollingly pretentious as ever. Vaulted ceilings draped in the silks in the grey of the mists, making the party below them feel more like a wake than a celebration of the arrival of summer. Someone should really tell the Queen that one did not project confidence by showing their need to constantly remind people of their rule. In another life, that person might even have been Simon. He had more experience in a variety of courts than most landed nobles that remained in the Mists. Currying favor with the new monarch would have meant good things for his brother’s standing in addition to his own.

But he had been too lost in searching for his daughter just after the Queen was crowned, and by the time he might have been a help, the war in Silences had come and gone. The Queen would likely never realize how that war had cost her the support of the Torquills and of Amandine. She might not even care, if she did know. But for Simon, the Queen of the Mists would always be the person responsible for his sister’s death. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t stopped her dancing until decades after the war. The fighting in Silences had set things in motion, and that was all that counted. Oh, she had been confirmed by the High King, and neither Sylvester nor Simon would openly stand against her. But as Sylvester had spent the last several decades proving, it was very easy to ignore the existence of a monarch, if one so chose.

The invitation to a court function that had been sent to Shadowed Hills was perfunctory, and Simon knew that the Queen expected no response. But an invitation it was, and it provided him with the perfect opportunity to speak with the Ducal Emissary of Golden Shore, as his lady had bade him. Given the topic of their discussion, it wouldn’t do for Simon to request a formal meeting. A chance encounter, though, while bringing his changeling ward to see the grandeur of the Queen’s court? That had served his purposes nicely.

Confident that blocks on certain controversial lines of agriculture would soon no longer present a problem, as his employer wished, Simon moved on to enjoying the rest of the evening. Pretentious as the Queen’s court might be, Simon was very much looking forward to showing it to October.

And, he had to admit, also to showing her off. October was no longer the child with the wobbling curtsies and the illiteracy of court politics that she had been when Simon arrived at the tower those years ago. She still struggled with her magic, but he knew that there was only so far she would be able to go, handicapped as she was by the twisting of her blood towards mortality. The one blessing she had was that the changes had happened before she came into her abilities. Not knowing that her abilities should be more than they were meant that October wasn’t frustrated when she couldn’t do the things her teachers tried to show her. She did her best, and when that failed she assumed it was so for all half-blood changelings.

Surveying the room, Simon received a series of nods, some friendly, most merely polite, and a few with an edge to them that told him he shouldn’t take solitary turns around the garden while those folk were around, lest he find himself in a less than hospitable situation.

A sharp movement to the left caught his eye. One of the Hobs was crossing the outer edges of the dance floor, heading in Simon’s direction pointedly, rather than offering the drinks on her platter to guests. Arriving in front of him, she bobbed a slight curtsy, eyes wary.

“My lord, you may wish to adjourn to the side room off the gardens. Your- you may wish to go. Speedily, sir.” She turned then, allowing her attention to be drawn away by those signaling her to bring drinks. Simon was already on the move. A more pointed glance around the room told him that October was nowhere to be seen. _Oberon’s ass_. He’d left her off to the side of the hall, enthralled by the dancing. He had thought that she would be too overwhelmed by the masses of people, very few of whom she had met before, and would stay where she’d been put while he conducted his business. Apparently he had overestimated her shyness.

Moving swiftly across the ballroom, he swept aside the curtain that hid the hallway from view. It was another thirty paces to the room the server had indicated. Opening the door, Simon scanned frantically for October, and found her sitting on a low leather ottoman. Her knees where tucked up to her chest, turning her dress into a mass of wrinkles, and she seemed to have been looking at the far side of the room. The sound of the door opening drew her attention, and she looked over at him, eyes widening. Before she could speak, another voice came across the room.

“Perhaps it would behoove you to keep a closer eye on your kits, Torquill.” Tybalt, currently the local King of Cats, and always a master of annoyance, stepped out of the shadows that October had been looking towards. “It seems to be a particular deficit of yours.” Before Simon could respond, Tybalt turned back to the shadows, and in a few steps, disappeared into the darkness.

Simon looked after him, the comment taking him like a punch and knocking the air from him. Standing in wide eyed silence, he didn’t notice October moving until she hit his side and flung herself at him, burying her face in his chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She repeated the muffled litany to his waistcoat. Wrapping one arm around her trembling shoulders, he used his free hand to stroke her hair. As he did this he realized that it was half falling out of the formal styling her friend had forced it into that afternoon. Drawing her back over to the footstool, he sat, putting himself at a height with her, and got a clearer look at her face.

October had an angry red mark high on her cheek that would doubtless be a bruise in the morning. Her formal dress was torn at the hem and stained halfway up the skirt, where her knees would have impacted if she were pushed to the ground.

“What happened?” he asked, eyes widening. This was a monarch’s court, for Oberon’s sake. It wasn’t as though he had taken her to a mortal pub crawl. October’s eyes trained back on the floor; she had yet to look him in the eyes. She took a deep breath, clearly swallowing down tears she refused to let fall.

“The other kids, they said there was a special party for the children, and I should come see. But then we just went out to the gardens, and they were showing off their magic, and they said I should show mine too, but I can’t do what they were doing, and so they were just ignoring me.

But then one of the servers came out and they started to say terrible things about her, how she’s not as good as them because she’s Hob and Bannick and not anything ‘important’. And I told them to stop being so mean, and they said I was worse than her, because I’m a changeling, that I belong in the dirt, and they just kept pushing me down, and I couldn’t get up before they pushed me again, there were too many of them. It was awful, and I hate them, and I hate court, and I just want to go home. Please, Papa, can we just go home?” The effort of speaking wound her higher and higher, until she was shaking like a leaf from the effort of not crying.

Simon looked at her, dumbstruck. In that moment, she sounded just like August. And maybe he couldn’t bring his older daughter home, maybe she was no longer out there to be brought. But he had this daughter in front of him, and she was a new responsibility. And perhaps, for now, that was enough.

It was clear that October hadn’t meant to call him that. Her eyes had widened when she realized what she said, and now she looked at him warily, as though he was going to shove her down as well. There could be only one proper response to that.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He stood, gathering her into his arms again as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “Let’s go home.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to juniperqfox and my husband. 
> 
> I realize that it's implied in canon that Kerry is a bit younger than Toby and Stacy, but it's my AU, I do what I want. Also, writing parental relationships is hard!

  
_October 17th, 1965_

Toby hit the floor with a loud smack. Again.

“Well done, Terrance!” called Sir Ettiene. The captain of Uncle Sylvester’s guard had been reluctant to allow her to join in the hand-to-hand training he provided to the pages in the knowe. She wasn’t sure exactly what his objections had been, but she knew that he had them, and that Uncle Sylvester had overruled him. And so now here she found herself, getting thrown around by the pureblood boys and girls who she usually only saw in passing in the halls. If nothing else, she had gotten very good at falling.

Terrance held a hand out to her, and she went to take it and get to her feet. At the last moment, he snatched his hand back, causing her to fall a second time. Looking over, Toby confirmed what she guessed; Sir Ettiene had turned his back to work with another group. Glaring at Terrance, she stood up on her own power. He smirked. It was an expression Toby had gotten quite familiar with over the past six months.

Ever since the incident at the Queen’s Beltane party, Toby had suddenly had more lessons to contend with. Uncle Sylvester’s reaction to her coming to brunch the next day with a bruise on her cheek had been to insist that she learn how to defend herself. Aside from Sir Ettiene having objections, Papa had also been against it. She and Aunt Luna had taken one look at the dark clouds gathering over the brunch table and retreated to Aunt Luna’s dressing chamber. She had wound Toby’s hair into a succession of complex styles, chatting the whole time about the small gossips Toby had missed at the party the night before. By the time they emerged, neither of the men looked entirely happy, but they were no longer fighting, and Toby was told to report to the training hall in three days.

On the one hand, she had noticed an improvement in her ability to keep up with Julie when they were running through the tea gardens, so it wasn’t as though nothing useful was coming of it. But more than anything, she had been getting reinforcement for her initial assessment from the Queen’s court. Most purebloods were terrible, and the less time spent with them, the better. Prior to this she had spent most of her time in Shadowed Hills either in the kitchens and servant’s halls, or in the family quarters with Uncle Sylvester and Aunt Luna. Outside of parties, it hadn’t really occurred to her that there was an actual court full of actual nobles, until suddenly she was thrown into training with five of them.

Terrance was the worst of them, and so of course he was the one she was paired with most often. Janessa and Tristan weren’t bad, but they were older, mostly biding their time until they were assigned to a knight and could squire properly instead of being stuck with door duty with the younger pages. Xavier was actually really nice; he was a mixed blood, and so he didn’t have the ‘I’m a Daoine Sidhe and better than everyone’ stick up his butt that Terrance did. The only problem with Xavier was that he was absolutely besotted with Chloe, and she was the type who thought she had to wash her hands if she touched a changeling. She always managed to pair with one of the others, and so far Sir Etienne either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.  
  
Toby hoped it was just that he hadn’t noticed. She worried sometimes that he resented having to teach her, because he’d argued with her uncle about it so much. Sir Etienne almost never argued with Uncle Sylvester, he was far too formal mannered for it. If he really didn’t want to teach her, there must be something terribly wrong with her. Except she wasn’t supposed to think like that, Papa had said. She was just as good as everyone else, and for other people to believe it, she needed to believe it herself.

“Ready for another round, changeling trash?” Terrance asked in an undertone, mocking smirk still astride his face.

Well, believing in herself had to start somewhere.

“Fine” she said, and launched into her attack without further warning. It wasn’t the combination they were supposed to be working on, but one from weeks earlier, when the topic had been ‘dealing with a larger opponent’. She caught his wrist, pulling him towards her until she could use his superior height against him, letting his top-heavy center of gravity do most of the work as she flipped him to the floor.

At the last moment, he caught her ankle, sweeping it out from under her and then rolling until he was on top of her, rising up on his knees to get clearance for his fists. One came down, catching Toby in the jaw as she tried to buck him off while getting her hands in a useful position at the same time. As his other fist came down, she gave up aiming for his torso far above her, and instead punched straight in front of her, making firm contact with her groin. His second punch went awry as he doubled over, hitting her in the shoulder instead of the face. Then suddenly he was off her entirely.

“What in Oberon’s name do you two think you are doing?” Sir Etienne asked from above her, where he held Terrance by the collar of his shirt. “None of that resembled our current drill. You are here to learn how to fight with honor, not to be underhanded and roll about in the dirt like some ch-” He cut himself off, but not before Toby knew exactly how he’d meant to end that sentence.

Pushing herself up from the floor, she ran to the door, ignoring Sir Etienne’s calls behind her. Turning out of the main hall as soon as she recognized a side passage, Toby continued running, following the well-trod path to the kitchens. She burst through the doors, not pausing as she rushed past the startled staff to the small pantry she and her friends often hid out in. She flung open the door and shut it quickly behind her, slumping down against a mountain of burlap sacks full of onions. Only then did she finally allow herself to cry, the darkness hiding her tears, but not the quiet sound of sobs.

After a few minutes the door clicked open, casting a small shaft of light across the floor before it was shut again, returning the room to darkness. Toby hadn’t looked up quickly enough to see who had come inside, but when they didn’t start speaking immediately, she knew it had to be Kerry. Julie would have wanted to plan immediately how to get back at whoever had made her cry, and Stacy would have wanted to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Her assumption was confirmed a few moments later when Kerry did speak.

“Mom’s making hot chocolate. With peppermint. You want to come out and talk about it, or should I bring it in here?” She asked. And Toby had no doubt that if she wanted, Kerry would get the cocoa and drink it with her, here, on the floor, amid the onions and potatoes. Just because she didn’t have friends in the practice room didn’t mean she didn’t have friends at all. That thought gave her the strength she needed.

“Let’s go get it.” She said, standing and moving cautiously towards the door, so that she didn’t run into Kerry in the dark. When Kerry opened the door, they both allowed a few moments for their eyes to adjust before stepping out into the brightly let room. Kerry’s mom stood at a nearby counter, ladling steaming brown liquid from a small saucepan. She turned to the girls, handing them each a mug.

“Why don’t you two run along back to our rooms? It’s getting on to dinner time, we don’t need you girls underfoot.” She said, patting each girl on the shoulder with a smile before she turned back to her stove, and the many other steaming pots it contained.

Clutching their steaming mugs, Kerry and Toby headed down the hall, reaching the suite of rooms Kerry shared with her mom quickly. It was small without being cramped, and tidy while still feeling like a lived-in home. Toby and Kerry settled on to an overstuffed loveseat, enjoying their cocoa in silence at first. Toby kept trying to form what she wanted to say, and failing. Finally, she settled for simple, universal truths.

“Purebloods are the worst.” She said firmly.

“Yep” Kerry agreed, not bothered by the lack of context. Then she continued, “Do you want me to help you with your face, though? Your lip’s bleeding, and your dad’s gonna be pissed about it, he hates when you get banged up.”

Toby hadn’t even noticed, but now, bringing her hand to her mouth, sure enough, there was a split in her lip that had mostly stopped its sluggish bleeding. She sighed. If it wasn’t one thing, it was always another.

* * *

 

“It’s a very impressive glamour you’ve got going there, October.” Simon said as he looked up from the kitchen table when she opened the door. It currently wasn’t so much an eating surface as a desk, covered in books and papers for his current project. He wasn’t sure why cataloging who in the kingdom had information about hope chests was relevant to his mistress, but it proved an interesting problem, if nothing else.

“If it were impressive, you wouldn’t know it was there without hardly looking.” October said in a sulky tone. That caused Simon to look closer. While he generally disapproved of the sparring lessons and thought that his brother needed to stop intruding on Simon’s child rearing, October genuinely seemed to enjoy them. It was the only reason he hadn’t pushed harder for her to stop attending, once she had been there long enough that the case could be made that she had given it a try. She usually came back from the lessons bouncing with adrenaline, and uncaring of the minor bruises that hand to hand training always entailed.

Today, neither seemed to be true. Rising, Simon waved a hand towards her, breaking her glamour with a thought as he approached to get a closer look. The red mark on her lower jaw was rapidly darkening into a bruise. Her face was a mirror of how she had looked on Beltane night; tired, uncertain, and tinged with desperation. He hadn’t understood, that night, just what she was desperate for, and had thought he was misinterpreting her expression. But if the past few months had taught him anything, it was that she was definitely desperate. Desperate to have a family that she could make proud. On reflection, he couldn’t believe he had not seen it before. She had grown less and less attached to her mother’s expectations of her the longer Amy stayed away from home. But she was still a child, and she still desired parental affection, which experience had taught her was gained through approval. When Simon had accepted the title of ‘Papa’ from her, he had suddenly found himself the recipient of an even more focused campaign to gain his approval.

She had been ready to refuse lessons from Sylvester just because she thought he didn’t want her to have them, and had thrown herself into learning new spells with more energy than ever; not, he realized, because she was more excited by magic, but because she knew that it was something that he enjoyed. When he had realized this, he wanted to explain to her why the spells she tried so often failed, to reassure her that it wasn’t her fault. But he found himself unable to. He’d spoken to Evening, shortly after October’s first visit years ago, about her struggles with magic, hoping that being the Firstborn of another blood working race might mean she could help. She hadn’t been able to, and she had counseled him to not reveal to October the full extent of what her mother had done, because it would only cause the girl distress.

It seemed that Evening had been correct, for in the years that followed October’s nightmares vanished, and her distressingly intense need to follow her mother’s rules faded. When he found occasion to mention things subtly, it seemed that October had no memory of the incidents that had left her dreaming of a mother who only stopped when she was begged to. And that could only be for the best. It wasn’t until more recently that he realized what a problem not being able to tell her about any of these changes could be, and by then the topic was solidly covered by his lady’s orders. Nothing could be done.

Rather than dwell on it, he focused on training October in another area that he excelled in, one that was not dependent on an individual’s level of Fae blood. If she was not going to be able to rely on her magic to remove herself from troublesome situations, it was all the more important that she be able to talk herself out of them. Diplomacy was a learned skill, and one that much of Faerie sorely lacked. It would make her valuable to Sylvester, when she was grown, or to whatever court she chose to serve in, if she traveled elsewhere.

Focusing back on October, and the uncertain look on her face, he waited. When it became clear that she was not going to explain without further prompting, he went over to the icebox, taking her hand to draw her after him. He handed her a piece of ice wrapped in cloth for her face, then took out a tray of whitefish fillets.

“Dinner is almost ready. Put some ice on that, clear the table, and decide what you want to tell me by the time I’m bringing plates over.” he said, turning to the simmering chowder on the stove as he finished, rather than waiting for an immediate response. One of the things he had been teaching her was the power of formulating your narrative for a specific audience. There was a world of difference between lying, and only telling the parts of the truth that someone wanted to hear. He didn’t want her hiding injuries from him, but there might come a day when she did have to hide them from others, and he wanted her to be prepared to do a good and thorough job, if not with well spun illusions, than with well spun tales.

Simon sliced some bread to go with the chowder, setting the plate of bread and a crock of butter in the cleared center of the table. By the time this was done, the simmering liquid had cooked the fish, and he could begin serving that up. Simon smiled slightly. He never would have pegged himself as someone who enjoyed cooking, but he had found over the last few years that it was nice to have something simple and reliable to do, separate for machinations and false flatteries. All the flatteries in the world wouldn’t make bread rise. And it helped him to create a home for October, which was even more important.

Bringing the dishes to the table, he sat, taking a slice of bread to butter as he waited for October to begin speaking.

“I was at hand-to-hand lessons.” She said after a moment. “It’s physical combat, some level of minor injury is expected.” She looked at him expectantly across the table.

“True, but you were also upset, and attempting to hide the injury, and I’ve enough knowledge of you to know that you do neither of those things for simple sparring injuries. Try again.” Simon instructed with a raised eyebrow.

October rolled her eyes and thought for a moment, taking a bite of soup to delay the need for an answer. Excellent, she’d remembered to use the hedging tactics available in the environment.

“Well yes, you ‘have knowledge’, or whatever, but you also don’t like that I’m in hand-to-hand anyway. You didn’t want me to take lessons in the first place. If you see me injured it’s likely to be upsetting, so it makes sense to keep it from you, so you won’t be distressed without cause.” She looked at him again, eyes triumphant.

“Turning things back on me so that I’m on the defensive. Very good. And framing your actions as being done out of concern for someone else, so that people are less likely to tell you something shouldn’t have been done, even if it didn’t work. Good strategy, though it would be better if someone else was here, because it tends to work better in a group. Still, very solid effort.” He finished before she could start to wilt again. October found taking praise so difficult, yet she absorbed every bit of criticism like it was gospel. “Now, why don’t you tell me what actually happened?”

October sighed. “One of the other kids was being a jerk, calling me changeling trash again. I want outside the drill to put him on the ground, and then he went outside the drill to get me back. And then I ran off, so I’m probably in trouble with Sir Etienne, and maybe with Uncle Sylvester.”

“Who said that to you?” Simon asked sharply. He doubted she had meant to say ‘again’, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t heard it. Maybe October didn’t realize, but he did have a certain amount of standing in his brother’s court, he could certainly manage-

“One of the other kids, and I’m not telling you who, because I’m handling it.” October said firmly.

“Handling it like you did earlier, with your face?” he said in exasperation. “There are ways to manage- no, let me finish” he spoke over her as October tried to break in, “There are ways to manage things without weakening your position.” Simon took a deep breath, calming himself, before continuing to speak in a more even tone. “You call me your father, October, and I get the feeling that to you that’s mostly about making my proud. And I am, sweetheart, I’m proud of you every day. But I also call you my daughter, and that means that I have both the right and the responsibility to be there for you and protect you. Whoever said that to you shouldn’t have, and I can’t just let it stand.”

October looked at him with wide, shocked eyes, as though the idea that Simon had a responsibility to take care of her in ways that extended beyond providing food and clothing had never occurred to her. And it probably hadn’t, but that was a topic for another day’s pondering.

“I- I love you, Papa.” She said, her eyes staying wide to insure she didn’t actually start crying.

“I love you too, my dear” Simon said, smiling softly.

“But” October drew out the word, clearly thinking as she spoke. “If I let you deal with it, all he has to do it wait for the next time you’re away on a trip. It doesn’t mean anything if it’s coming from you, except that I’ll run away and let other people solve my problems. I think I have to do this myself.” She finished decisively. “But” she drew out the word again, this time with a smile on her lips. “That doesn’t mean that you can’t help me plan.” She looked at him hopefully.

Simon had to smile. He supposed he couldn’t teach his girl to plot and then be upset when she wanted to put the teachings into practice.

“Alright.” He said. “Eat your dinner, and tell me what you’ve got so far.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to juniperqfox and my husband.  
> This chapter has been brought to you by the auto-save feature in Microsoft Outlook, because my work computer (that I definitely don't write fic on during meetings) decided to restart without telling me.
> 
> So I'm playing a little broader with interpreting canon than I usually do, but I've researched pretty extensively, and I don't think there's an actual canonical answer for what I'm addressing, so... Hope you enjoy it.

_October 15 th, 1967_

The week before Toby’s fifteenth birthday dawned with the forced over-brightness that marked every day in her mother’s part of the Summerlands. The weather had not shifted since Amandine left, or perhaps it just couldn’t shift. The tower was a lot like Uncle Sylvester’s knowe, in that the lord was the land, and it shifted itself as that lord saw fit. Without anyone to guide it, the whole space seemed to be stuck. Toby was just glad that she hadn’t been stuck with it.

She knew that sometimes happened to changelings in the Summerlands. Time ran strangely, and it could affect those with mortal blood in unexpected ways, aging them either faster or slower than was generally expected. Having their Fae parents around was supposed to mitigate part of this, but it was a quality based on their shared blood, and so for all that Simon had been more of a parent to Toby in the last five years than Amandine had been in the eight years previous, his love for her wasn’t enough to help her in this respect. Fortunately, Toby seemed to have been lucky enough that it didn’t matter, and she was aging at the expected rate.

After putting on her new underthings (and hadn’t _that_ been an adventure), Toby grabbed a dress from the wardrobe and pulled it over her head. When Aunt Luna called her to come and talk in private, Toby had been worried at first that she was in trouble. By the time the afternoon had ended, she almost would have preferred being in trouble. Instead, the private meeting was also attended by the seamstress that the duchy worked with, and she brought a selection of bras to inflict on Toby, with instructions on how to tell when she needed new ones in a larger size. When Toby escaped at last, she promptly went to relate her mortification to her friends.

All three of them had laughed, Stacy loudest of all. She’d started needing bras three years ago, and had been eagerly waiting for the rest of them to catch up so she could complain in good company. Technically Julie should have come next, but she had gotten on her high horse about Cait Sidhe and the Meaning of Freedom, which her Divided Courts friends had taken to mean that she just didn’t want to bother. Kerry, it turned out, had started wearing bras a year ago and just not thought to mention it, since she ‘wasn’t a drama queen like Julie’.

Julie’s dramatic tendencies meant that she was spending even more time with her friends, away from the Court of Cats. Though the species as a whole was much more accepting of changelings, there were assholes everywhere, and unlike her friends, who managed to stay away from jerks who weren’t put directly into their paths by circumstance, Julie made it her business to seek them out. This generally led to being told by King Tybalt to make herself scarce for a while, while tempers cooled. It was currently Stacy’s turn to host the wayward cat on the foot of her bed, but Toby had no doubt she’d be seeing her again soon.

Not, as her friends continually reminded her, that Toby had much room to talk in terms of due caution when interacting with purebloods. For one thing, she was just different. The first time Stacy had said that, she’d tried to deny it. But while there were a fair many changelings, both in her Uncle’s court and in places like the Tea Gardens, none of them could claim family relation with people of rank. Important people like Amandine and the Torquills weren’t supposed to have changelings, or at least not acknowledge them when they did. It just wasn’t considered polite. And while Toby didn’t think her parentage made her better than anyone else, it seemed sometimes that she was the only one.

Other changelings who didn’t really know her would sometimes ask her about purebloods, because they assumed she had some sort of inside track to how they worked. People at court would talk about changelings like they were smart monkeys, and then say to her ‘well of course I don’t mean you. You aren’t like those people.’ As though that didn’t make it worse. Oh, a whole group of people was inferior, but she didn’t really count as part of that group, so what did it matter? Not that she was part of the speaker’s group either, of course. Political interaction was like hand-to-hand class, and she hated it. At least in class, she’d been allowed to hit people.

That was the other reason her friends told her she didn’t get to judge how other people managed their problems with purebloods. Terrance had left Uncle Sylvester’s court to complete his squiring elsewhere. It was for the best, really, because no one took him seriously anymore after his very public meltdown about ‘catching inferiority’ from interacting with changelings.

Her plan had been so simple; just a little help from her friends to break in to his room and doctor his shampoo. The brilliant golden hair he was so proud of slowly dulled to the same bland color of her own, and of course frequent washings only made it worse. It knocked him off his high horse, which had really been her only goal.

She couldn’t have predicted how much something so small would bother him, and she definitely couldn’t have known that the visiting Lady who had come to see Cousin Jan would see the two of them in the front hall and ask if they were related. She’d just rolled her eyes, but Terrance had completely flipped out, yelling at her and trying to strike her until Sir Etienne came and took him away, by which time dozens of people had gathered to see what the commotion was. The sight of the older boy raving about changelings being contagious was something none of them would soon forget. Toby knew that she should feel bad, and on good days she did. Mostly.

Once she had finished dressing, Toby headed down the stairs.

Papa was at the kitchen table which was already covered in books and papers. It never ceased to amaze Toby just how much he could find out from those things. Books were there for everyone, but it took a special skill to be able to glean information that others missed, and put it together to solve problems like he did. Next year, when Toby turned 16, she would finally be old enough for him to take her to the Library of Stars with him. She couldn’t wait.

“Good morning, October.” Papa said, looking up from his papers.

“Good morning” Toby said, going over to the stove and pouring herself a mug of tea, which she doctored liberally with sugar before heading over to the table, pulling a chair back so she could easily reach her tea while resting it on the counter, not the table where it might fall and spill on the parchments spread out there. Usually she had to nudge Papa out of his train of thought to ask him questions about what he was researching. Today, it seemed as though he hadn’t looked back down since she came into the room. Toby waited a moment before raising an eyebrow.

“You’re staring.” She said, staring back pointedly. Papa smiled wryly and looked away.

“I suppose that I am.” He said. He looked at her for another long, silent moment, considering, before asking, “Understanding of course that I don’t know if it will be possible, given that I don’t know what Amy put into place regarding this; would you like to check in on your mortal father for your birthday this year?”

Toby’s eyes widened. No one had spoken to her about her mortal father, not since her mother had left. She was suddenly glad her tea was on the counter; if she had still been holding it, it would likely be on the floor now. Her hands had started shaking, and she felt that her mind was skipping like one of Stacy’s scratched records. Papa looked confused, and that confusion was fading into worry. She had to say something.

“Do- do you mean go to the cemetery?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Cemeteries with a very mortal thing, since the Fae had the Night Haunts and didn’t need them. The idea of walking through fields of the dead sounded terrifying. And what if they weren’t all resting? Mortal stories were full of ghosts. What if Daddy was still there, waiting? What if he was angry at her, for causing the house to burn, and him with it?

“Oh dear. I’m so sorry, I had no idea that he’d died.” Papa looked utterly distressed. And that made no sense at all.

“Of course he did.” Toby said angrily, force coming back into her voice. “I’m here, aren’t I? That’s what happens. We choose Faerie, and our other parent has to die.” Why was he making her say this? He was the smartest person she knew, he had to know all this already. But instead of nodding in understanding, Papa looked completely horrified.

“What on earth are you talking about?” he asked in bafflement. Toby’s confusion increased.

“Uncle Sylvester came and gave me my Choice, and then Mother and I left, and the house burned, and Daddy died, because that’s how it has to be when someone Chooses Faerie.” Her voice barely shook as she said this, she was proud of that. She shouldn’t cry, anymore. She was just a few years from turning eighteen. If she had stayed in the mortal world like Mother had wanted, she would practically be an adult.

 

* * *

 

Simon gaped at October in open shock. It was neither poised nor dignified, but it was all that he could manage in the moment. 

Gathering his senses back about himself, he stood, walking around the table and kneeling in front of October. She was hitting her growth spurt, he thought absently, as he realized that this no longer put them at a height, as it had for so long, but made her a fair bit taller.

“October, dear, I need you to tell me something, and it’s very important.” He paused long enough for her to nod, before asking in a carefully calm and level tone “Who told you that?”

She looked at him in confusion. “Mother, of course. I was asking about Daddy all the time when we first came to the Summerlands, and she didn’t want to tell me, but finally she did. Only now I’m not so sure?” the last she said so hopefully that it hurt his heart.

Keeping his face carefully level, Simon said “I don’t know. I’m afraid I need more information about this. Why don’t you get some breakfast and then we’ll go to the knowe together? I need to speak with my brother.”

“Let’s go now.” October said, standing as she spoke. Expecting his protest, she added “I can get something to eat in the kitchens later. I’m not hungry right now.” Even as she spoke, she was striding past him to the door, leaving Simon to scramble quickly to his feet and follow her. He had to marvel at how much she had grown in the time he had known her. He forgot sometimes, as he just had when he knelt to speak with her. She was a teenager, Oberon help them all, and growing more confident by the day.

Grabbing his coat, Simon followed her out the door, winding through the unseasonably vivid gardens to the well-worn path that would carry them to the knowe. He thought at first that October intended to make the entire journey in silence, and he couldn’t blame her, given the morning she was having. It startled him when, a few minutes into their walk, she spoke.

“Why were you asking about my dad anyway?” October asked quietly. “We’ve never talked about my life before the Summerlands. Why now?”

Simon considered. It wasn’t that he had been impulsive; far from it, he had been considering this quite a bit for the past few weeks. But in all the time that he had spent contemplating whether or not he should broach the subject with October, he hadn’t really considered why it felt like it was important now, after all this time. Now that he was being asked, he was forced to think about it, and he wasn’t sure he liked the conclusions he was coming to and what they said about him.

“Loath as I am to shatter your illusions of me, I believe that it is important for you to know that you aren’t the only person here who sometimes suffers from a lack of self-confidence.” He said at last. October looked at him, eyebrows drawn together in a confused frown. “You are very dear to me, October, and knowing that you count me as a father to you means more than I can say.” That part was easy; it was just the truth. He pressed on to the more difficult admission 

“You’re old enough now to understand why you can’t talk to your mortal father, but I thought that perhaps being able to see him would give you comfort and closure. I know that part of your life ended suddenly, though prior to this I hadn’t realized how suddenly. I- I don’t want my place in your life to be something you choose to give me simply because you feel you have no other options.” Simon forced himself to keep his eyes on the path as he continued forward, only to be brought up short when October stopped and turned to him.

“But that’s not true.” She said, as if it were something obvious. Simon searched what he had just said, but could not see what she was referring to. It must have shown in his face, because she continued. “I’ve got loads of other options. I could stay with Uncle Sylvester and Aunt Luna. I could go live with Kerry, her mom wouldn’t mind. Neither would Aunt Lily, she takes in half the changelings in the Mists, she wouldn’t mind another.”

“You aren’t my family because you knew Mom before I was even born. I didn’t get trapped into thinking that you’re family because I was alone and scared and didn’t have anyone else. I had plenty of time, once I was safe and healthy, to find what I wanted. And what I want is you. That’s not going to change. Okay?” She finished speaking before stepping closer and hugging him. He held her, stroking her hair with one hand, and breathing deeply to keep the tears gathering in his eyes at bay.

Simon realized in that moment that he hadn’t cared about someone’s positive regard this much since he had begun courting Amy. He had not known how insecure he had been feeling about it until he was forced to speak it aloud, and once he did everything made more sense. October was taking more and more interest in her friends and her lessons at the knowe. He was worried that he was going to lose her, just like he had lost August.

And perhaps he would, in time. But it would be her choice and he was starting to realize that that was alright. Because October was not straying to outside interests because she was tired of him. She was comfortable pursing these interests because she was secure in the fact that Simon loved her, and would always be there for her when she needed him. The fact that she was able to manage this level of trust in a parental figure, after what she had been through, was a gift in and of itself.

October squeezed him tightly before pulling back. “Now,” she said, “let’s go talk to Uncle Sylvester.” Her face darkened to a dangerous cloud. “I need to know if Mom lied to me. Again.” Turning, she continued down the path, and Simon followed a bare step behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to juniperfox and my husband.

_October 15 th, 1967_

 

When they had reached Shadowed Hills, Toby had wanted to go immediately to talk to Uncle Sylvester. Papa was insistent that she let them speak alone first, and she didn’t fight him on it as much as she might have. The day had barely started, and already it had been overwhelming on multiple fronts.

Toby had never talked to her friends about their mortal parents; thinking about her mortal father was painful for her, and so she had assumed it would be for them. Now, as she walked in a daze down to Kerry’s room, she had to wonder if she might not have known that something was wrong years ago, if only she’d been willing to mention it. If only she had been willing to consider that her mother would lie to her. And why? What reason could Mom have possibly had to do something like this?

Toby rounded the last corner to knock on the familiar door and it opened to reveal Miss Melly, who had recently been trying to get her daughter’s friends to call her by her first name, with varying levels of success.

“Toby? Kerry isn’t here, she’s left for school already. Did you need- sweetheart, are you alright? You look so pale dear, should I call Jin?” The way she fluttered, the way she  _mothered_ , was apparently all Toby needed to tip her over the edge.

She grabbed Melly in a hug and buried her face against the woman’s shoulder, finally allowing the tears she’d been shoving down since Papa had first mentioned Daddy to burst forth. Melly returned the hug and gently drew the girl into the living room, closing the door behind them. She guided Toby over to the worn couch and sat down with her, managing to do so without breaking Toby’s clinging embrace.

Toby stayed curled against Melly having her hair stroked until she had cried herself out. When Melly realized that Toby’s tears were winding down, she moved to stand. Toby clung tighter.

“Now dear, I’m just getting us a bit of tea. You stay here a moment, and then we’ll have a lovely cup of tea, and you can tell me what’s wrong.” Melly said, extricating herself from the girl’s hold.

Toby curled her knees up to her chest, her face a mask of misery. She realized that she could no longer hide in the corner of the couch when she was curled like this. She was growing up. It wasn’t near as enchanting a prospect as it had been earlier this week, when she was planning out her birthday party. Suddenly it felt like she had arrived in an arena where everyone except for her knew how things worked. She was once again the stupid changeling that she had worked years to avoid being, and she hated it.

Melly came back to the sofa with a pair of steaming mugs, handing Toby one before retaking to her seat. Toby took a careful sip of her tea, then drank more deeply when she confirmed that it was cool enough. Tea from Kerry’s mom always helped her to calm down, and today was no exception. Taking a deep breath, she felt herself settle.

“Miss Melly, I need to ask you something, and it’s gonna be weird, and kind of rude, but I need you to answer before you ask me questions. Please?” she asked. Melly’s face stayed clouded with concern, but she nodded, so Toby continued.

“When someone makes their Changeling’s Choice, what happens?” Toby brought her mug close to her face, breathing in the scent of earl grey with the calming addition of lavender and looking at Melly through the steam. Melly was clearly forcing herself to remember that she’d promised to answer before asking questions; it was readily apparent that she had them.

“In general, or in specific?” She asked, “I can’t truly speak to specifics; Kerry is three quarters Fae, she never had to make the choice, and I didn’t really speak to her father about his.” That caused Toby to sit up in surprise. She’d known all of those things, she supposed, but had never really put them together. Of course Kerry wouldn’t have had to make the Choice. Toby and Julie were the only ones in their group who were half mortal; Kerry’s dad was a half-blood changeling, and so was Stacy’s, but Stacy’s mother was mortal. Both of their fathers had not been in their lives since they had moved to the Summerlands, it was something the three of them shared in common, though not something they discussed.

“In general. Just, like, what happens when someone is given the Choice? Anyone, things that are the same for everyone?” Toby clarified.

“Alright.” Melly said, taking a moment to contemplate before putting things together. “When a changeling child reaches the point where their baby magic no longer hides the things that make them different from mortals, they must be given their Choice. Their Fae parent ask-”

“Or someone else.” Toby interjected. Melly looked at her in confusion. “It isn’t always their parent, sometimes it’s someone else.”

“I suppose.” Said Melly slowly. After a moment, she raised an eyebrow at Toby, who nodded for her to continue. “ _Usually_  their Fae parent, but sometimes someone else, asks them who they are more like, the Fae parent or the mortal parent. If the child Chooses mortal, then their parent must take steps to protect Faerie. Usually some accident is arranged. I’ll admit I don’t know the details. I’ve never seen how anyone could live with themselves after doing something like that, if I’m being honest.” She looked off into the distance, seeming faintly disturbed by the whole idea.

“And if they Choose Faerie?” Toby persisted.

“Ah, yes.” Melly brightened a bit. “If they choose Faerie, their Fae parent must take them into the Summerlands. It’s gotten a bit more complicated in recent years, with the increased likelihood of a kidnapping being reported, but really as long as the child stays in Faerie until they are old enough to look different it’s never a problem.” She finished, looking over at Toby. “Does that answer your question?”

Toby looked at her with wide eyes, staring silently. She didn’t realize her hands were shaking until Melly reached out to steady the mug in her hands.

“Toby, please tell me what’s wrong?” Melly asked gently.

“She lied.” Toby said, so softly that it could barely be heard even in the silent room. “Mother lied to me.” She said again, louder this time, her voice full of hurt and disbelief. It would be easier to believe that Miss Melly was lying now, but she had no reason to. There had been no context to Toby’s question that would give her a purpose to lying.

Meeting Melly’s eyes again, Toby wasn’t sure which was worse; the fact that she was reasonably certain that her mother had lied to her about the death of her father, or the fact that while Melly looked sad, she didn’t look at all surprised.

 

* * *

 

Simon swept into his brother’s private parlor. It was too early for a proper audience, but Sir Etienne had taken one look at Simon’s face and directed him here. It was good to know that the man had some sense. Simon hadn’t held a very high opinion of him since the trouble with October’s combat training, but he did generally trust his brother’s opinion of people, and Sir Etienne had been seneschal in Shadowed Hills for more than a century at this point.

“Simon? Whatever is the matter?” Luna asked, her voice soft and pleasant. Turning towards the sound of it, Simon found that his sister-in-law was already dressed for work in the garden, a basket containing several types of clippers looped over her arm and her hair covered with a broad-brimmed hat.

“I need to speak with Sylvester. Is he about?” Simon asked. He did not feel like getting into things with Luna. She was ever so patient with him, and so good at stepping in to mother October when she needed a woman’s touch. But Simon was on edge and felt that the conversation that would follow was likely to involve shouting, and he did not wish to direct any of that towards Luna. Sylvester could handle it. He’d been doing so for centuries.

“You know he’ll only tell me later.” Luna pressed.

“Then it’s for him to tell you later. Where is he, please?” Simon pressed. With a raised eyebrow, Luna gestured towards the private balcony, before continuing on her path to the outer gardens. Whatever would happen between them would be no mystery to her for long, and since he knew it, she seemed content to let them have their privacy for the time being.

Going through the balcony doors, Simon found his brother sitting at a small writing desk, looking positively harassed by the amount of paper on it. Simon had to smile briefly. Being a hero had its rewards to be sure, but being too good of a hero, as Sylvester had been, tended to lead to a reward that insured that one’s days of heroics would come to an end when it suited those in power. Rule of a duchy was a positive end to come to. But acres of land came with acres of paperwork, and age had not mellowed Sylvester when it came to his suitability for the mundane. He looked up at the sound of the door.

“Simon! I hardly expected you this early. I don’t supposed I could interest you in any of this drivel?” Sylvester offered with a wry smile, which faded when he saw the look on Simon’s face. “Has something happened? Is October alright?” He started to his feet, only to stop when Simon held up a hand and dropped himself into the chair across from Sylvester.

“She’s fine, or as much as can be expected. Sylvester,” he paused for so long that his brother almost spoke up again, before finally he continued. “Sylvester, I need you to tell me about giving October her Choice. Everything.” Sylvester looked confused, but he began to answer nonetheless.

“The only thing of any real significance that I haven’t told you before is how I knew to go find them. The Luidaeg came to speak with me.” Simon startled. “Yes, that was my thought as well. I’ve never heard tell of her asking favors, only granting them, and even that only when she had to. But she came, right into our private gardens, and told me that we shared a niece, and that the girl’s blood was being twisted out of true. She told me where I could find her, and then she left, and I went to find October.” Sylvester stopped then, and it took Simon a moment to realize that he believed the relevant parts of the story had ended.

“That’s all well and done, if quite odd. But what happened that day?” Simon pressed.

Sylvester gave a half shrug. “About what you would expect. I came through a portal with Etienne and a few of my other knights, straight into October’s bedroom. She was there, and she seemed more awed then frightened by the whole thing. Then Amy came in, and she knew what was coming. She started crying, and that frightened October. But she made her Choice, and my men and I brought October and Amy through the portal with us, back to the Summerlands. Amy took October and ran for the tower almost immediately, and it was weeks before I saw either of them again.”

“And that was all?” Simon asked. “What about the fire?”

“Oh, well.” Sylvester allowed, “I believe that was the nature of the ‘accident’ Amandine arranged, to hide anything that might help the mortal authorities pursue them. What of it?” He seemed genuinely confused. That was the final confirmation that Simon needed to believe that Sylvester truly didn’t know about any of this. There had really only been two options; that his brother had been that unaware of the details of something that he had been directly present for, or that he had been aware of something that was hurting October, and had done nothing about it. Simon had not wanted to believe the latter, but he wasn’t willing to ignore the prospect out of hand.

Now that he knew for sure, it meant that he could share his findings of the morning with his brother and find a proper sounding board for his distress.

“I asked October this morning if she would like to arrange to check in on her mortal father. Not speak with him; I knew she would know better than that, but see if he’s alright, if he’s been able to move forward with his life.” Simon explained.

Sylvester raised an eyebrow. “What made you feel that was necessary?”

Simon sighed. “Necessary is a strong word. But she’s been moving further afield in recent months, and I thought it would be better for her to satisfy her curiosity in a somewhat controlled setting, rather than to seek him out on her own.” The truths he was willing to admit to October and those he was willing to admit to his brother were very different things. “It will be better if she has a clear separation in her mind between those two worlds.”

Sylvester scoffed “And you really feel your disparagement of that world is helping anyone? It could just as easily have been our world, as you well know.” And of course his brother would choose now to bring that up.

“Brother, I will happily have this argument with you another time. At the moment, it isn’t relevant.” Simon continued speaking over his brother’s protestations. “What is relevant is that this morning when I asked October if she would like to check up on him, she become very distressed and assumed I meant going to a cemetery. She assumed this because she had been told that when a changeling Chooses Faerie, the mortal parent must die.”

Sylvester’s eyes widened. “What? Who on earth would have told her that? Surely she wouldn’t believe one of the other children about something like this?”

Simon gave a short laugh. “No, I don’t imagine she would. But I can easily imagine her pestering Amy about this after they moved to the tower, and Amy giving her an answer that would stop further questions.” He paused, before adding softly “I don’t think she would have realized what she was implying, or how October would take it. She was upset about returning here, you said so yourself. She wasn’t thinking clearly, that much is obvious.” When Simon met his brother’s gaze again, he found in those eyes too like his own what he liked least to see: pity.

“You’ve always considered yourself the wit and wisdom of the pair of us. There’s no call to start lying to yourself now.” Sylvester said, sighing. “We’ve known since we were children that Amy had the capacity for cruelty. But she turns it on her friends so rarely that it is easy to forget. It wasn’t until centuries later that I realized that her favors could also be cruel. Or do you not remember the way she played us against each other, when we both sought her affections? I’m quite sure now that I’ve had the better part. But back then, oh Oberon’s grace.  Back then I wasted a good many years in bitterness, which I can now only apologize for.”

Simon’s chin had come up in defiance as his brother spoke. How dare he speak of Simon’s wife in such a way? While he may not be the fighter of the two, he had proven more than capable of winning Amy’s heart. How dare his brother disparage that?

“Stop it.” Sylvester said sharply. Simon looked at him, anger rising. “You came here to talk about October. About whether or not I believe that Amy could have hurt her in such a way. And I’m speaking to you as someone who loves Amy as another sister; she could have, easily. Perhaps not because she is cruel, but certainly because she doesn’t think of the consequences. I can easily believe that she would tell October something like this, likely with the intention of easing her transition to the Summerlands; and certainly with the intention of stopping further questions. But I can also easily believe that she never considered the wider implications of what she had said. I don’t believe she would have let October think she’d killed her father. But I do believe she wouldn’t have realized that that was what she was saying.”

Simon felt his anger ebb away. Looking at things as Sylvester had framed them, it seemed all too likely.

“If that’s the case, then he’s likely still alive. We have to look into it. I don’t suppose you might know where I can start?” Simon asked, offering partnership rather than a verbal apology. For the two of them, it came to the same thing.

“Of course.” Sylvester replied, his voice steady and gentle, accepting the apology. “Let me find my records from back then. An address is a better start than nothing.”


	9. Chapter 8.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda under the weather this weekend, so we get a half-chapter. Sorry! Also, I promise the next chapter is a little bit lighter.
> 
> Beta credit to JuniperFox and my husband.

_October 24 th, 1967_

Toby knew that there were people who would say she was too old to walk around holding on to her father’s hand, but for the moment she couldn’t bring herself to care. She clung to Simon, looping an arm through his so that she could hold on with both hands without it being awkward. He was maintaining the human disguises for both of them, and she was very glad of it. She simply wouldn’t have the concentration to hold something like that at the moment. She hadn’t for the last few days.

Walking down the street in a mortal neighborhood felt strange. Ten years ago they were the only streets she had known, but now they seemed flat and alien, lacking the luster and depth of the paths through the Summerlands where she spent her days. The air felt thick and heavy, in a way that it didn’t even in the Tea Gardens, which were the most mortal place that Toby had spent any length of time in recent memory 

When Papa had come to find her in Miss Melly’s rooms, it was to tell her that he and Uncle Sylvester were working on finding out the truth about her father. She went with him to the mortal records hall later that day, tracking ownership of the house she had lived in for the early part of her childhood. It had burned to the ground the day she and her mother disappeared, and the land had been sold rather than rebuilt.

From what they could tell from the newspapers, her mortal father seemed to have used the proceeds of the sale to give his wife and daughter a funeral, and then he had disappeared. There was no record of him buying a new house. No mentions of him at all in the newspapers for that time. Toby had spent hours carefully turning dials and scanning microfiche for mentions of him, to no avail. It wasn’t until she moved on to the more recent papers that she got a hit, and when she did, it was in the last place she wanted to find it.

Turning a corner, Toby and Simon made their way through the heavy wrought-iron gates, him giving them a careful berth, her not bothering. Reading about these types of places was always incredibly creepy, and being in one wasn’t helping her nerves. Toby kept waiting for someone to come around a corner telling her that she shouldn’t be here. Telling her that she should have come sooner.

The path brought them to the crest of a small hill. Papa paused here, taking a small piece of paper from his pocket and consulting it. He turned to the left, guiding her with him. They picked their way through the rock-studded grass for several yards before arriving at their destination. Toby dropped her hold on Simon’s arm, freeing a hand so that she could reach out and lay it on the rounded top of the stone as she read it.

Jonathan Daye  
April 19th, 1924 – September 14th, 1966  
May He Find Peace


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juniperfox is busy and my husband is sick this week, so please let me know if you find any super egregious errors. 
> 
> I feel that Dirty Harry would have been a very formative film for Toby, lol And there's an Easter Egg, between this chapter and the last one, if anyone happens across it. ;)
> 
> Also, who's finished Night and Silence? I have so many feelings!

_December 27th, 1971_  

Aaron was a really nice guy. For one thing he had been way nicer than he had to be when he caught Toby trespassing in the cemetery towards the start of autumn. Mortal cemeteries were just not set up with the idea of nocturnal Fae visiting them in mind. She’d been coming a few times a month for the last several years, and nothing bad had happened. She supposed that was why she’d gotten sloppy.

It wouldn’t have been a problem if Toby had been able to maintain her don’t-look-here. But she’d started talking to Daddy. Not loudly or anything, but it always made her emotional, and when she was emotional she wasn’t concentrating on holding her spells.

Aaron had found her, sneaking up before turning on his flashlight. The cemetery had been having trouble with graffiti recently, and he’d wanted to catch whoever was doing it in the act. Instead, the beam of his flashlight had found Toby’s tear-streaked face. Thankfully, her hooded sweatshirt had hidden her ears, and she was able to get a human disguise over her eyes before he could notice anything strange about them in the dark. She hadn’t been able to change the color much, that would have been suspicious. But he’d told her the other day that her storm-grey eyes were one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. She’d laughed and said that she made them herself, causing him to laugh in return, not realizing that she was being truthful.

Once he had ascertained that she was a mourner and not a vandal, Aaron had invited her back to the security shack to have some coffee. At first she’d thought it was a set up to him trying something, but now that she wasn’t being caught off guard she figured she could manage it. As it turned out, sometimes coffee actually meant coffee. Which was strange and new in and of itself. Papa was a tea drinker, and even with all the mixed bloods and changelings running around Shadowed Hills, she’d never seen the drink in the kitchens there. It was bitter, even with the addition of milk and sugar, but it was hot, and so she pushed through it.

Now, several months into their nighttime conversations, Toby had finally started to develop a taste for the stuff. And, perhaps more surprisingly, a taste for her supplier. When Aaron had asked her three nights ago if she wanted to go to the movies with him, she’d said yes without hesitation. It was nothing like her mother, she told herself firmly. One date was a world apart from playing fairy bride.

And because it was so inconsequential, there hadn’t even been a need to mention it to Papa. She hadn’t planned to, until just the other night, when it all came tumbling out, sneaking out to the mortal world and all. He’d been surprised, but not angry, and he’d reminded her that while he appreciated knowing where she went for safety’s sake, she didn’t need his permission. She was eighteen, an adult as far as her mortal half was concerned. Half an adult? That sounded closer to the truth.

Toby tugged self-consciously at her knit hat. Late December was chilly and damp, providing an excellent reason to wear an additional layer of cover over her magically blunted ears. Originally Aaron had wanted to pick her up from her house, but of course that wouldn’t work. She’d gotten awkward at the suggestion, and then he had gone the same way when she asked if she could meet him at his place. They decided it was easiest to meet at the theater. Toby had arrived only a few minutes before the appointed time; it was now five minutes after. Rubbing her hands together against the growing chill, Toby checked the piece of paper with the address again. There were half a dozen movie theaters around, what if she’d gotten it wrong?

“Toby?” A voice behind her asked. She turned with a smile.

“Hey! I was starting to worry I had the wrong place.” She said with relief. Aaron looked his normal self; tall and sturdy, with a head of dark curls stuffed into a cap and a frazzled look behind his glasses.

“No, no, you’re great, the bus was late, I’m sorry.” He hooked his head towards the doors. “Shall we?” He put out his arm theatrically for her to take. On impulse, Toby gave the best formal curtsy she could manage in jeans (borrowed from Julie, and a bit too tight if she was honest), and then giggled at his expression.

“If you’re going to treat me like a lady, you can’t act surprised when I treat you like a gentleman.” She informed him.

“Well then, milady, lead on.” He said, laughing as they entered the theater and went up to the ticket booth. “Two for the 7pm ‘Dirty Harry’, please” he said to the pimply teenager in the kiosk.

“I can get my own.” Toby protested.

“How gentlemanly would that make me?” Aaron replied.

“Well then, at least let me be a gentlewoman and get the popcorn.” She said. He nodded, with only a slight bit of eye rolling, so she counted that as a win. Tickets acquired, the pair headed into the theater.

 

* * *

 

Simon looked at the clock again, and sighed. October had only left an hour ago, she shouldn’t be back yet. Her late night escapades of the past several years hadn’t been overly surprising. He’d tasked one of the more principled of his less savory contacts with following her, but the only places she ever went were the cemetery where her mortal father was buried, and the occasional late-night diner. As teenage rebellion went, it was so mild that he didn’t feel the need to mention it. Let her feel like she was getting away with something, let her enjoy that small bit of danger. It would keep her from looking for other, more potentially harmful ways to act out.

While he’d had to pretend surprise when she at last confessed to sneaking out the day before, he hadn’t had to feign his worry when she told him that she had met a boy, and wanted him to know that they would be meeting up. Going on a date.

Simon had almost been hoping that October would test her wings in this part of life with one of her friends. The Cait Sidhe girl, perhaps. That would lend an assignation an air of forbidden wildness, while still involving a comfortable level of the safe and known. Instead, she seemed set on following her mother’s path in her search for romantic adventures. Not that it was anywhere near that serious, he reminded himself. They were children, and they were going to a show. It was nothing to worry about. Perhaps if it told himself that often enough, it would ring truer.

At the sound of the door opening, Simon looked up from the book-strewn table. Evening Winterrose stood in the doorway. He stood quickly.

“My Lady” he said, bowing slightly before crossing the kitchen to meet her. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” She extended her hand, allowing him to brush his lips across it and then use it to draw her over to an empty chair.

“You are always so gracious about making your way to my lands when I have tasks for you.” She said, her voice falling over him as it always did, a syrup of roses and calm. “I thought it long past time that I come to you. I haven’t seen this place in so long, and it does my heart a world of good to know that October has such a lovely home.”

Her praise buoyed his spirits and allowed him to put aside his worries about October for the moment.

“As ever I live to serve, my lady.” Simon said, using a flick a magic to warm the kettle faster than the burner would allow. It wouldn’t do to leave his lady waiting, not even for something so minor as the tea and refreshment that hospitality required.

Bringing the steaming cups, along with some sugar cookies, to the table, Simon at last sat opposite her.

“How may I be of service this night?” he asked. As ever, the idea of being able to fulfill a desire for her filled him with a thrill of anticipation.

“Firstly, I wish your opinion on an aspect of the current political landscape of the Mists. The Queen has been finding certain of her interests difficult to maintain, and while I wouldn’t normally mind seeing a jumped-up mixed blood like that coming to grief, in this particular instance her interests and mine are aligned.” Evening stoked a finger along the rim of her teacup before continuing.

“By all rights, she should be able to arrange matters at her whim. She is Queen, after all. You disagree?” She arched an eyebrow. Simon realized at once that he had not even attempted to hide his expression of distaste.

“She is Queen, but she is not well liked.” He replied frankly. “She knows that not all of her nobles agree with her, yet she has done little to court their loyalty or favor. She is content to surround herself with petty sycophants. It’s not leadership, it is ego. Those who see that are content to hold their lands and their people apart, and so we remain a court divided.” Simon folded his hands, waiting to see what Evening would say to this assessment.

“Indeed.” She drew out the word. “I’ve come to these same conclusions. I’m so glad you agree.” Simon preened under the praise. “And would you also agree that Shadowed Hills is the crux of this problem?” Simon startled.

“What? What do you mean by that?” he asked.

“Sylvester holds his own court, his own celebrations at the holidays. He puts himself forward as a place to turn for those in the kingdom that are struggling. His days of being a hero on the fields of battle may have ended, but he is a champion to his bones. He comports himself as a monarch in all but name, and it takes away from the queen’s credibility and standing.” She spoke kindly, as though she were explaining things to a child.

“And the fact that he is a better leader than the Queen is somehow Sylvester’s fault?” Simon asked incredulously.

“Of course not.” Evening said. Her voice soothed his unrest, as it always did. But today he did not want to be soothed.

“Sylvester gives his people safety and a place to belong. If they feel they can’t get those things in the rest of the kingdom, that’s the Queen’s responsibility, not his.” He said firmly. Of course he wanted to support his lady’s interests, but if that meant supporting the Queen, when her mad thirst for control and power had killed September- No, he simply would not do it. The anger in him simmered, warring with the soothing promise of his lady’s words.

“Of course he needs to do what is best for his people.” She said, the tone of her words growing sterner. “But all of the Mists are not his, and he does his own people a disservice by spreading himself so thin. A simple reminder that there is work aplenty to be done at home, that’s all he needs. Perhaps a section of the wards falling in to disrepair? Wards made by others are never as strong as those the landholder makes himself, but Sylvester has no skill for it, and it does tire him so.” She left the statement hanging, leaving Simon to fill in the details, as he always did.

“You wish for me to sabotage my brother’s house, to provide distraction.” He said in a level voice, entirely devoid of emotion.

“Thinking of it as sabotage is such an overstatement.” She said, in a conciliatory tone. “I’m sure with your skills you’ll be able to find areas of the wards that could do with his attentions. You’ll only be bringing the matter to mind earlier than it would have come on its own.” The flattery brought a wave of positive feeling over him. His lady thought well of his abilities, trusted him to handle things. But instead of coming in to meet the pool of overwhelming warmth and desire he usually had for his lady, it crashed against the wall of his anger, building it higher.

 “I’ve said no!” He said. Had he never raised his voice in her presence before? He thought not, given the look now on her face. “If you tell me which of the Queen’s interests you would like moved forward, I’m sure I can find a way.” He waited, anxiety creeping up in him as the silence was drawn out.

“You surprise me, Simon. Really.” When she spoke at last, it was with the chiding tone of a disappointed parent. “What would dear August say if she knew that some silly little wards were more important to you than bringing her home?” The words hit Simon like a knife, but he brought his chin up stubbornly.

“And what progress towards bringing her home has anything I’ve done in the last fifty years made? No. I’ll be much better served looking out for the daughter that I have. Weakening Sylvester’s position means weakening the strongest ally changelings have in this kingdom. I won’t do it.” Simon said. The waves hitting the wall of anger were beginning to translate into an unbearable pounding in his head.

Evening narrowed her eyes at him, then rose and stalked towards the door.

“You may find, given time, that you wish to reconsider. I will be waiting.” She swept out the door and Simon was left alone in the tower, which suddenly felt very cold, worried that he had just made a dreadful mistake.


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to the lovely JuniperQFox and NOT to my husband, who is in France working instead of editing fan fiction for me, the nerve of him!
> 
> Ya'll get this chapter early because I'm going camping this weekend. That said, I'm going camping this weekend and thus will not have the writing time I am used to, so next week's chapter may be delayed, but don't worry! I've left you the most evil cliffhanger possible for your likely week long hiatus! Because I care! :)

_March 14 th, 1972_

“So tell me about your date!” Toby said gleefully, eyes staying on Stacy as she spread the skirt of her dress around her and sank gracelessly into the nest of cushions on her friend’s bedroom floor. Stacy rolled her eyes and looked away.

“There’s not much to tell. I met a guy, we got coffee and walked the pier. It’s not some grand romance. Not like yours.” This last she said slyly, waggling her eyebrows at Toby.

“Oh stop. And is that really it? Are you going to see him again?” Toby pressed. She and Aaron had only been dating for a few months, but he made her really happy, and she wanted her friends to be able to feel that kind of happiness too.

“I don’t know, Toby. He- I’m beginning to think I should take a page out of your book. Play faerie bride for a while.” Her face fell a bit as she spoke. 

“I’m hardly anyone’s bride.” Toby retorted, before fully catching Stacy’s look. “What happened, Stacy? What did he say?” Already Toby could feel herself bristling. Papa would say that all the time around Julie was starting to rub off on her.

“It’s nothing, everything’s fine.” At Toby’s look, Stacy sighed. “He said he didn’t realize I was so thin blooded. That he doesn’t like ‘wasting time’ with people who have so little to spare.” Bitterness crept into her voice. “You know, I didn’t like the idea of you dating Aaron at first. Thought it wasn’t fair for you to lie to someone like that. But it turns out truth isn’t such a great strategy after all.”

Toby gaped for a few long moments before narrowing her eyes. “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to go, and I’m going to get Julie, and we’re going to claw his eyes out. How dare he speak to you like that?” When she moved to stand Stacy caught her wrist. 

“That’s just how people are, Toby. We’re not kids anymore, we’re not cute little changelings. Suddenly we’re a threat, a chance that bloodlines could get even more watered down. You have to have heard people say that. I just didn’t think people our age were that- that awful about it.” Stacey sighed again. “I wasn’t even looking for something serious. I just wanted someone to go to the movies with and stuff. It’s stupid.”

“No it isn’t.” Toby said immediately. “You have just as much right to have fun as anyone else.” She paused, before asking uncertainly “Do you really think it’s wrong, my dating Aaron?”

Stacy bit her lip. “I don’t know. Maybe not, if it’s not serious. And it isn’t, right?” She asked.

“Of course not.” Said Toby, firmly. “I don’t want anything serious for ages. We’re still kids, Stacy. And I’m never, ever going to love someone and then do what my mother did. No, this is just fun. And Aaron knows it too. He invited me to this family dinner thing in a couple weeks, but I think it’s because he wants to show his mom that she can’t control who he dates, not because he thinks I need to meet his family.”

Stacy looked skeptical. “As long as you’re sure.” After a moment, she added “So, does he have any cute friends?” Toby laughed, laying back on the cushions as she mentally went through what she knew of Aaron’s friends, trying to play matchmaker.

It was hours later, when the light from the windows had finally gathered enough that Stacy could end the spell in the phosphorescent globes she lit her room with, that Toby finally headed back home. Dawn didn’t come properly in the Summerlands, but the gathering light was still an indication that it was time to head for bed. Or at least to return to the tower. She had teased a few details about the identity of Stacy’s date from her friend. With a bit of Papa’s help, she could probably track him down and plan a trick suitable to remind him why it was best to live life in a way that didn’t involve being a jerk to changeling girls.

Picking her way down the worn path between the knowe and the tower, Toby paused occasionally to move small stones that had been tracked onto the path. A little trouble now would be worth it the next time she was helping to push a wheeled cart down the track, for one of Papa’s random experiments.

Coming to the gate, she hesitated. Something seemed off. The flowers in the garden were all as perfect as ever, but it seemed so still, as if the whole garden was holding its breath. Frowning, Toby shook her head and continued down the path. Nothing could make it through her mother’s wards, not with Papa reinforcing them as he did. It was all perfectly fine.

Reaching the door, Toby opened it and let herself into the kitchen. She had barely stepped inside before she stopped in surprise.

“Mom?”

* * *

 

Simon had come down the stairs when he hear October at the door. She’d been out for the day again, though this time is was with her friends, not with the mortal boy. That was certainly an improvement, though he did miss the days when she would spend an entire week working with him, researching and learning and hardly leaving the tower. They had had a few days of that, after her first date with the boy. She’d wanted to practice her illusions, learn how to make them stronger. Even though she knew they were not related by blood, it frustrated her that something which came so simply to him was such a hardship for her.

But there were tricks anyone could learn, ways to wrap your spells in emotion, using joy or anger, for it was all passion in the end, to give your workings the power that you did not possess. Once he had taught her this, she’d improved by considerable measures.

When Simon entered the kitchen, he expected to see October rummaging around for a last snack before bed. He did not expect to find his wife, standing in the center of the kitchen and slowly surveying what she found there.

“Amy?” he asked in wonder, not quite believing his eyes. She turned at the sound of his voice.

“Simon? Whatever are you doing here?” Her tone was distant and confused.

“I came to speak with you, of course. But you were away. I’ve been waiting for you.” He said, carefully. She sounded lost, and he didn’t want to jinx whatever good fortune had brought her back.

“Of course I was away. I had to go looking. Tell me, Simon, have you found our daughter?” she asked, her tone becoming more direct with this last question. Simon felt his heart break a little.

“No, my love. I search for her still. But perhaps now, we will be able to search together, and have some greater measure of success.” Even as he spoke, he grew excited at the idea. There had been no progress in his search, not for years, and he no longer believed that his lady was going to be the key to finding August. Perhaps whatever Amy had seen in these years she had been gone would put them on the correct path.

Amy cocked her head, confusion marring the beauty of her face.

“But if you have failed to find her, whyever would you come back here?” She asked in a tone of bland puzzlement. Before Simon could even process this enough to think of an answer, the door opened, admitting October to the room.

“Mom?” she said, shock evident in her tone. Then delight overtook her face, and she ran to her mother, taking her into her arms. “Mama! You’re home!” Amy returned the embrace briefly, before using the position to take October by the shoulders, holding her some distance away so that she could look at her properly.

“Oh my dear, what have you done to yourself?” Amy asked, chidingly. Simon frowned. October had been at her lessons with Luna about etiquette and tending a knowe, and certainly she had stayed out after to see her friends, but she was still dressed in a gown that was only slightly rumpled. It wasn’t as though she was wearing those awful, tightly fitted denim trousers and midriff-baring tops she wore when she went out to the mortal world.  Still, October bit her lip and self-consciously began stroking at her skirt, trying to smooth it.

“Sorry, I suppose it is a bit-” she broke off, her momentary distraction vanishing. “But you’re home! You’re finally home! Where were you?” She asked, her tone growing plaintive. Simon remembered now that though he had certainly missed his wife in the time she had been away, October had been missing her mother for more than half her life.

“Oh October, don’t be silly.” Amy spoke as though October was still the small child she had left. “I told you that I needed to go out looking for something. Perhaps I took a bit longer than I intended, but even so.” Her tone grew sharp. “And what is this I return to find? You’ve been gadding about and letting strangers into our home?”

October looked bewildered. “But Papa isn’t a stranger, he-” Amandine interrupted her.

“He is certainly not your father, October. I can see now he’s been confusing matters. And isn’t that always his way?” She turned her cold gaze on Simon for a moment, a look too removed to be called a glare. “We will discuss this later, October. Go to your room.”

“But-” She began.

“Now, October.” Amy’s tone left no room for argument. October turned and went up the stairs, looking at Simon the entire time, her eyes silently begging him to fix this. He desperately wanted to make everything right in her world again. He just wasn’t sure that he would be able to.

Amandine watched her go, before turning back to Simon.

“Whatever have you been telling her?” She asked, cold remove back in her tone. “What gave you the right to have anything to do with my daughter? Haven’t you done enough, without poisoning this one’s mind as well?”

Simon gaped at her. “What gave me the right? The law did, Amy. We’re still married, for all you may wish to deny it at every turn. You had another child, and then you just left her. It’s been ten years! I’ve raised her for longer than you have at this point, and certainly done better by her. When I arrived she was scared of her own shadow and knew hardly anything about our world. Can’t you see how amazing she’d become?” Simon was genuinely at a loss.

He had done this for Amy! Oh, that was no longer his reasoning, but when this had all begun he had done it for her, to protect the second chance that she had built for herself. Did she think it was an easy decision, to raise the child that his wife had had with another man? Did she think that he’d spent a decade being a parent as some sort of game?

“Oh yes, more and more a part of Faerie every day, I’m sure. And did you ever think to ask if that was what I wanted? Are you really so blind and stupid that you can’t see it’s exactly the opposite of what I desired for her?” Amy looked at him thoughtfully for a few moments before shaking her head. “No, you’ve never been stupid. Spiteful, though. Oh, that you have in spades. Of course you can see what I wanted for her. Was it fun for you, turning her against that in every respect? Making her struggle against her own blood to have something she was never meant to?” Her tone quieted. “Did you enjoy hurting my daughter just to satisfy your need to punish me?”

Suddenly, it felt as though the conversation had shifted, and Simon could not begin to say where he had lost track of things. Did Amy genuinely feel that he had wronged her? Did she really think he would use October as nothing more than a pawn to cause Amy pain? That there was anything in the world that would cause him to willingly hurt October?

“Perhaps you don’t know me as you once did.” He replied. “You certainly don’t know October. And how could you? You haven’t been here to know anything about her. She’s strong, and intelligent, and she loves you. Do you truly think she would allow herself to be used against you in this way, even if it were something that I was willing to do?” He shook his head, mostly to clear it.

This was the truth. Amy could spin things however she wanted, could think of him whatever she wanted. But the important thing was that she know the truth about October, that she acknowledge their daughter’s strength and force of will and stop discounting her like some weak little- Like a changeling, his mind completed that sentence, even as he tried to deny to himself that he had thought it. He pushed it away.

“Why don’t we ask her?” He said. “You’ve sent her up to her room like she’s a child, but she isn’t, not anymore. She has a right to have a say in this conversation.” He stepped towards the stairs, ready to call up to October, but as he opened his mouth he found himself unable to speak. He turned to Amy, eyes wide with betrayal. She knew things. They had confided in each other, once upon a time. She knew that nothing scared him so much as the idea of losing his voice, his primary weapon and defense. And yet she would do this.

“You’ve done enough damage.” She said, the anger that had been gathering in her voice now tinged with her magic. “I won’t have you speaking to her and making things worse. Get out. If you come near my tower or my gardens, or my daughter, wherever she may be, at any time in the next ten years, I swear by the root and branch you will find that you sorely regret it.” As she finished talking, he felt the power of her spell clamp down on him, beginning as a low level of discomfort and a feeling that he needed to leave the tower, and slowly increasing as he stood, stunned and staring at his wife.

“Get out.” She said again, low and calm, glaring at him steadily. The pounding in his head increased until he realized there was no other choice. Grabbing his jacket from the hook by the door, he went out into the harsh, unforgiving light of the morning.


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm back from camping, which was amazing, it was the first SCA event I've ever been to, and I'm already super excited to go to more! 
> 
> Beta credit to JuniperQFox and my husband, who both want to punt Amandine through a wall. #goals

_March 15 th, 1972_

Toby honestly wasn’t sure how she had managed to fall asleep. She had heard the rattle of doors opening and closing long after the sound of voices had settled, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to go downstairs and see what was happening. It had been so long since Mom had told her to do something, and this thing was so simple. Toby couldn’t disappoint her already.

Besides, it had been even longer since Papa had seen her than it had been for Toby. Of course they would have all sorts of things they needed to talk about. It was better that she wait out of the way, and rejoin them both in the morning when things had time to settle down. It was easily the most sensible course of action, it was just that Mom had seen it before she had.

Somewhere in the course of telling herself firmly that everything would be fine, Toby had drifted off, only to be woken by the alarm clock Stacy had gotten her for her last birthday. Electricity might not work well in the Summerlands, but mechanical devices were fine, and this way, Stacy had said, Toby would stop having an excuse for being late to the lessons in healing and medicine that they had begun receiving from Lily. Of course neither of them could work magic in the same way, but Lily said it made training them a unique challenge, and so the lessons continued.

Deciding that enough time had passed that her mother’s instruction no longer counted, Toby headed down to the kitchen. After putting the kettle on for tea, she turned to survey the room. She and Papa had really let the tower get into a bit of a state. She gathered a few stray teacups and put them by the sink, then went to the table to sort through Papa’s current mound of research. Even his notes had been left out. That was strange; while books and papers might be left anywhere, he usually kept careful track of his own notebooks. But then, last night had been very unusual. It stood to reason that he could have forgotten.

Slipping the notebook into one of her skirt’s broad pockets, Toby gathered the rest of the scattered books and piled them neatly on a side table. With Mom home, they should plan for having actual space for eating dinner. Maybe Papa could turn his room into an office, rather than returning it to its previous state as an unused guest room. Papa was more social then Mom had been, but they didn’t really have guests. Most people who came to see him also came to see Uncle Sylvester, who had an entire guest wing to put them in, not to mention a better kitchen. The only one who really stayed over was Julie, and she was quite happy to shift into cat form and colonize the lower half of Toby’s bed.

The tower made a settling noise, and for a moment Toby paused to listen, thinking perhaps it was feet on the stairs. It would be strange, getting used to hearing people come down from her mother’s room at the top of the tower. No one had been up there in years, and now there would be two people. Toby rolled that thought over in her mind a moment, before saying, firmly and aloud, “Yeah, no.” As far as she was concerned, the fact that Papa wasn’t her birth father meant that she didn’t have to acknowledge the idea that her Fae parents had ever had sex, and she was happy to keep it that way.

The lingering silence made it clear that no one was coming downstairs yet, but at least the tea kettle was finally done boiling. Toby set a pot to brewing and then began shuffling through the cupboards, distracting herself with the decision of what to make for breakfast. What did Mom like best? It had been so long that Toby wasn’t sure she could remember. Scones, definitely, but she’d always been a bit of a disaster as a baker, so that was out. A kitchen full of smoke would be a terrible way to welcome her mother home.

Deciding that simplicity would be better for everyone, Toby started scrambling some eggs and put in a pair of English muffins to toast. It was pretty impossible to screw up, and she added a little mustard and Worcestershire sauce to the eggs, just how Papa liked them. As the first round of toast popped up, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Grabbing a cup, she had a hot cup of tea ready when Amandine came around the last bend of the staircase, and into view.

“Good morning, my dear,” she said, taking the tea Toby offered with a smile.

“Good morning. Food’s almost ready.” Toby said, smiling back so hard that her face almost hurt. Of course she had questions, dozens of them. But there would be time for all of that later. Now that Mama was finally home, they would have nothing but time, and Toby could hardly wait. She turned to the stove, dishing the eggs into a bowl and stacking the toast onto a plate. Setting them both down on the kitchen table, she grabbed plates and silverware and began setting the table. With this done, she sat down and looked at her mother, smile faltering when she caught sight of Mama’s tight frown.

“Why have you set the table for three, October?” Mama asked, tone light in a way that sounded incredibly forced. 

“For all of us to have breakfast?” Toby answered, confused. Was there another guest she wasn’t aware of?

“There’s only us, October. Exactly as things are meant to be.” Mama’s face was blandly serene, and it was now Toby’s turn to frown.

“Only us? Is Papa not feeling well? Won’t he be coming down for breakfast?” She asked. Amandine’s eyes narrowed sharply.

“He certainly will not, nor will he be returning to this tower if I have anything to say about it. I’m not sure what nonsense he has been filling your head with, October, but he is not your father by any stretch of the imagination. Whatever relationship we may have had, it is in the past now, and either way, it never extended to you.” This last statement of her mother’s was so dismissive that Toby’s growing mental protests ground to a halt.

Mama knew the Summerlands and the people in them better than Toby ever could, because she’d known them for centuries. When she said something, Toby had been used to taking for granted that it was true. But she had been gone for a long time. Maybe she just didn’t know how things had changed?

“I know it didn’t the last time you were here, but it’s been years, Mama.” Toby said. “It wasn’t long after you left that Pa- Simon- came to the tower, and he’s been here with me all this time, looking after me while he waited for you. He loves you. He’ll be so happy to have you home.” Papa’s name felt strange on her tongue. Calling him by it hadn’t occurred to her in years, but her mother’s expression when she started to call him ‘Papa’ aloud again told her that doing so would be ill advised, especially if she was trying to talk her mother around. Let the person you are trying to convince set the terms of the conversation, that was what Papa always said. It let them feel like they were in control, and would make them more likely to listen.

“October,” Mama said, and Toby could hear the exasperation building in her voice. “I don’t know what notions you’ve been allowing that man to put in your head while I’ve been away, but he is not your father, and he has no right to be living in this house. This is my home, and I told him to leave years ago. He waited until I was gone, and then returned without my permission.” Her tone now took a disappointed turn as she focused on Toby. “This is our home, and I believe that I was very clear about not allowing visitors without my permission. I thought this was a very simple request, but perhaps I was wrong.” She raised a single, delicate eyebrow at Toby, clearly waiting for her response.

Toby frowned. She’d needed to let Simon in, hadn’t she? She couldn’t have just stayed in the tower by herself. _But why not?_ A small voice in the back of her mind argued. _You can take care of yourself. You can obey your mother’s wishes. Why wouldn’t you? Why must you be such a willful, disobedient girl?_ This didn’t make any sense. She tried to push against the stream of thoughts filling her mind, when one final point drove itself home through the river of whispering doubts. _This is why your mother left the first time. Do you want her to leave you again?_

Eyes widening, Toby found her mother’s gaze and realized that she could hardly bring herself to meet it.

“I didn’t realize. I thought- But that doesn’t matter. I didn’t realize, and I disobeyed you, and I’m so sorry, Mama.” Toby’s words tumbled out over each other, trying to make everything alright again. Amandine stood and came around the table, drawing Toby into a tight hug.

“It’s alright, my darling. He’s confused you terribly, and that isn’t your fault at all.” She stroked Toby’s hair as Toby clung to her mother, feeling far younger than she was. “We’ll fix things, just you wait and see.” A part of Toby wanted to speak up, to explain to Mama that Papa hadn’t done anything wrong. But there would be time for that later. For now, she had her mother back, and nothing could possibly be more important than making sure Mama felt welcomed and happy. Papa could look after himself, he’d been doing it for years.  


* * *

  
  
Simon was coming to the realization that he was completely terrible at looking after himself. In the days since Amandine had sent him from the tower, he had felt aimless and lost. He had gone first to Shadowed Hills, to tell Sylvester that Amy had returned, and that he would do well to leave her alone for a bit lest he also incur her wrath. Sylvester had offered to let Simon stay, but after that first night he had brushed off his brother’s hospitality. Shadowed Hills needed to stay a place where October could turn if she needed help. Amy felt that Simon had done wrong by her, and would never allow October in a place that was also sheltering him.

Which didn’t even touch on the primary issue he faced: he had lost sight of his goals. He had grown complacent, content to enjoy the family that he and October had built together. How would he ever be able to face August now, knowing that he had lost years that should have been spent searching for her? His work with his lady might have hit a dead end, but there were other avenues he could explore. There had to be. What he needed was a fresh set of eyes.

He’d spent years now teaching October how to think critically about things and not take what was in front of her for granted. Her magic would never be able to be her strongest asset, so her mind would have to be. And she was old enough now that with the proper prompting, he might be able to get her to talk around the geas. He would have to be careful; so, so careful. But he believed that it could work.

So he waited. He knew that Amandine would not want to let October leave the tower at all now that she was home, not for some time. Whether or not October would fight that was another matter, but it depended on how much Amandine was able to compel October to behave as she wanted. She had always been able to do so with her children to an extent, and October seemed far more susceptible then August had been.

But would Amandine even need the compulsion? Simon remembered the look of pure joy that had filled October’s face when she saw her mother standing in the kitchen. She finally had her home. Of course she would want to do everything possible to make Amy proud, to make her stay. That was worrying in its own right, but Simon had resigned himself to trusting his brother in the long run, to make sure that things were alright. October was much older now, it wasn’t as though she would let herself go hungry. Yes, Sylvester would look after her while Simon embarked on his search once more, this time with October to provide new ideas. He just had to explain all of this to her.

To that end, Simon had taken to walking around Golden Gate Park. He knew that when Amandine did finally consent to letting October return to her previous routines, she would want to come to the park, if for no other reason than to see her friend Julie. It took two weeks, but finally, one bright spring afternoon, he spotted October sitting on a bench with Stacy, Julie striding between them in cat form and demanding attention. There was a group of thick trees that ended just behind the bench, and Simon approached through those.

He wasn’t sure yet the nature of the spell Amandine had put on him, but he was quite sure that being near to October, and especially speaking to her, would be a highly unpleasant experience. He wanted time to be able to brace for the pain, before October saw it written across his face. Slowly he approached, waiting for the rising headache he had experienced at the tower, or something similar. There was nothing, save for the small annoyances of brambles grabbing at him. Could he have possibly misunderstood Amy’s spell?

Perhaps she’d just wanted him to leave the tower.  He could live with that; the tower had always been her place. Perhaps he could create a new home for himself, one where October would know that she was welcome when the pressures of her mother’s expectations grew to be too much. The pair of them could create a home, and then bring August to join them. The thought made his heart swell as he continued through the thicket.

“Ow!” October suddenly exclaimed. Simon stopped. Had her feline friend scratched her?

“Toby, what is it?” Stacy asked. October leaned forward on the bench, one arm across her middle while her free hand massaged her temple. Simon strained to hear her, finally using magic to enhance his senses.

“I’m not sure.” She said, in pained confusion. “I thought I was just getting cramps or something, but now it feels like I’m getting a migraine on top of it. I don’t understand, I was fine earlier.”

Simon paled. No. It wasn’t possible. Amy wouldn’t have done it, not like this. Needing desperately to prove himself wrong, Simon moved a few long steps forward. October doubled over with a sharp scream.

“Toby!” Julie yelled, as she jumped from the bench and transformed in midair so that she could kneel beside her friend. Stacy, always the cautious one, looked around quickly to make sure no one had seen, before turning back to her friends.

“Come on Jules, help me grab her. We have to get her to Lily, now!” Stacy said, moving as she spoke. The two hefted October up between them. She was hyperventilating, her whole body was tense, and with his enhanced vision Simon could see the bright sheen of sweat that had broken out across her face.

Slowly, carefully, Simon stepped backward. After four steps, October’s body relaxed, falling limp against her friends. Half a dozen more steps, and her breathing seemed to have almost returned to normal.

“Toby?” Julie ventured cautiously.

“Hey guys. Did either of you get the number of that truck? Oberon’s balls, what even was that?” October asked, sounding a bit worn still, but mostly confused. Ten more steps back, and while he could barely hear her any more, he could see her standing on her own power. She looked fine, and not at all like someone who moments ago had sounded like she was being stabbed.

This changed everything. Choosing to risk his own discomfort was one thing. He would not choose it for October; she had had more than enough in her short lifetime of people making choices for her. There had to be a way around it, though it would require some careful testing to determine if written communication had the same effect. Failing that he could always ask his brother to bear a message for him. They would always be very different people, and Simon doubted they would ever be close, but in this matter he was certain that Sylvester would side with him over Amy.

Watching October’s friends lead her away as long as he could, Simon turned when they at last vanished from sight. He had so much work to do.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need suggestions! What are some adventures that Toby and Julie can have at Home?
> 
> Thank you everyone who is reading, I'm having so much fun with this story, and I'm glad ya'll are enjoying it.

_May 23 rd, 1972_

The past few months had by turns flown by and dragged on at a crawl. Mom was home! That was amazing. If she was honest with herself, Toby had stopped hoping for it years ago. She’d never stopped wanting it, but holding on to a hope that dear only to have it dashed again and again, and to be reminded of it every birthday and holiday, was too hard. But now she didn’t have to choose whether or not to hope any more. Mom was right in front of her, and wanted nothing more than to spend time with her. It was like a dream come true.

And if the dream wasn’t exactly as she had imagined, well, dreams never are, are they? When Toby had allowed herself to imagine having her family back together, it had been the three of them. Now Mom didn’t want anything to do with Papa, and she didn’t want to hear Toby asking about it anymore. Uncle Sylvester had told her that Papa was alright, that he was giving her mother the space she wanted. But what about Toby? What about what she wanted? She’d said as much to Uncle Sylvester, trying to sound her age and not whine, and knowing that she was failing.

He told her that it was more complicated than that. He’d looked sad while saying it, and very old. Toby wanted to argue, but then remembered what Papa had told her about the careful line Uncle Sylvester walked. If he wanted to be able to care for his people, he needed to save his challenges of other local powers for when it was truly important. And as much as she wanted it to be, a family squabble that only affected the three of them was not ‘truly important’, certainly not important enough to try and tell someone who they could let onto their lands.

Papa wasn’t staying with Uncle Sylvester either, though that didn’t surprise Toby much. As she’d gotten old enough to have a better understanding of how people worked, she had begun to realize that they were better at caring for each other when they were able to do it from distance. It had puzzled her at first. If she had siblings, she was sure she would have loved them and wanted to be with them all the time. But then Papa and Uncle Sylvester had hundreds of years of history between them. The longer you had with someone, the longer you had to say things that you would both regret later.

So she understood why Papa wasn’t nearby, certainly. But he’d been in the Mists for ages. He had all sorts of friends, there had to be other people he could stay with. And yet he’d left the kingdom. He must have. That was the only reason she could imagine that he hadn’t managed to see her yet. It would have been difficult during the time she was in the tower of course, but Mom had relaxed enough to allow her to get back to her normal routine ages ago. She’d seen no sign of Papa as she went to her lessons in Shadowed Hills and in the Tea Gardens, and into the mortal world to see Aaron.

Aaron. If there had been one thing in the last few months that she had really wanted to talk to Papa about, it had been Aaron. Mom hadn’t been there for all the history, and getting into it would mean talking about her mortal father. Toby wasn’t stupid, she knew that would be a terrible idea, and of course Mom would blame Papa for the whole thing. She seemed to be very fond of doing that. The best way to keep her from worrying that people were bad influences on Toby was for Toby to be at home, with her. Even when she had started going out again, Toby had decided to keep it to the things that were absolutely necessary. It had become clear that she and Aaron had different definitions of how much time spent together was ‘necessary’. That wasn’t going to change, and Toby couldn’t think of a better way to explain it.

After one too many instances of rescheduling, one too many excuses for why she suddenly was never available, Aaron asked her if she even wanted to be together, since she spent more time avoiding him then dating him. Toby knew when it took her far too long to answer that things were done. It wasn’t that she didn’t like dating him. There were just so many more important things happening in her life. Mom was home, and she needed to be there for her. Aaron seemed a little annoyed and a little sad, but he said that he wished her well with only a touch of sarcasm coloring his voice, and then went the other way down the sidewalk, muttering something about his mom having been right about dating shiksas, whatever that meant.

It was for the best, she kept telling herself that. Her life was in the Summerlands, and now Mom was in the Summerlands. She needed to focus on things there. Papa might be gone for now, but he’d be back soon. He always came back. And when he did he was going to be proud of what she’d accomplished. She would make him proud, and make Mom proud, and maybe once everyone was happy they would be interested in being a family again.

* * *

 

The last few months had been a growing mountain of frustration. Simon had searched for ways around the spell Amandine had cast on him and October, with no success. He had tried a few different types of cloaking spells to allow himself to get near her, but nothing had worked. As soon as he got within about ten yards, October started to feel pain. Anything that he tried to write with intention of having it delivered to her disappeared from the page, and left him with a blazing headache. He’d spoken to Sylvester as much as he felt he could, so he knew that October was alright, and that he would be told if that changed.

In the meantime he had to find a way back into Amy’s approval, and it had become very clear that the only way that would happen was if he brought August home. He had alternated between finding new ways to attempt to contact October and reviewing his previous actions in the search for August. There had to be some stone he’d left unturned, some new avenue to explore.

But the deeper he looked, the more he was reminded of the years he had spent hitting dead ends. It wasn’t laziness or lack of cunning that had driven him to Evening, it was complete lack of other options. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that she was manipulating him, using his desperation against him. But she’d been so kind about it, at least until he’d angered her, and serving her felt so safe. It let him feel, in those moments when he was in her presence, like he was whole once more.

What was done was done though, and he couldn’t see her letting him come back, not after he’d been so insolent and stubborn. He contemplated briefly going to the Luidaeg, but then she’d always been the smartest of her sisters. She knew what a failure he was, and wanted nothing to do with him the last time he’d tried. With the luck he’d been having of late with Firstborn, he’d end up turned into a fish or some such thing.

Simon walked the beach between Dame Eloise’s knowe and Goldengreen, losing himself in the sound of the waves lapping the shore. It was early in the year yet for truly warm weather, but as soon as the sun peeked out the public beaches filled with people, eager to make the most of things in case summer passed them by entirely. The private stretches in between he walked under illusion spells, giving himself miles of range, and he walked along train tracks when the sand ran out entirely.

It was this nearness of the shore that allowed him to be so honest with himself about Evening, to admit things that he had known and ignored for decades. Perhaps the wisdom lent by this liminal place would extend to showing him how to bring his girls back to him.

Ahead on the sand he saw someone coming towards him. As they neared he was able to tell it was a woman, and as she came yet closer he could make out who it was in particular. Simon stiffened and stopped short.

Either not noticing or simply undeterred, Oleander de Merelands continued her approach, taking his hands in hers.

“Evening told me what happened love, I’m so sorry.” She said, and to Simon’s surprise she actually sounded it.

“Why?” he asked, surprise driving is caution to the winds. “Why are you sorry?” He clarified when he was met with a confused expression. “Isn’t this what you always warned me about, Amy realizing she didn’t have use for me after all and casting me aside?” Simon didn’t even try to stop the bitterness from coloring his tone. He and Oleander both wore affections around so many other people, they had never had time for such things with each other.

“Oh Simon,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “Knowing that something is true and wanting to see it borne out are two very different things. But Evening told me this all happened weeks ago. I’ve only just returned, but wherever have you been staying? Not with your brother, clearly.” She indicated the rough state Simon had allowed his clothes to get into with a raised chin and quirked eyebrow. 

“I stay where I can, and I don’t see why it matters. You have your own business to attend, Oleander, and I doubt our employer wants you anywhere near me.” Simon tried to work up his earlier anger towards Evening, but all that he could manage was intense anger with himself.

“Why would you say that?” Oleander seemed genuinely puzzled. When Simon started to speak she continued over him. “Oh I know you had some sort of disagreement. How wicked of you! I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you, and I must say, the idea is very… enticing.” She quirked a flirtatious smile. “But you can’t believe that she still cares about such things? It’s been months, you silly fool, and you served her whims and graces well for years. One tiny disagreement can’t be enough to undo such things.” Simon looked at her, confused, and not quite able to believe what she was saying. Could it really be that simple? Could things be as they had been before?

He thought of the feeling of his Lady’s presence, the calm it brought. After weeks of dead ends, endless walking, and no real place to sleep, Simon was exhausted. Having someone else do the thinking for a bit sounded delightful.

Turning so that her hand held the crook of his elbow, Oleander wrapped her other arm around his back, her presence warm and familiar and comforting.

“Come now, my dear. We’ll simply explain things to her, and all will be well again.” Oleander said, drawing Simon down the beach, towards Goldengreen.


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to JuniperFox and my husband.

_January 6, 1975_

Laying her head in her hands, Toby sighed. This was simply not working. She had been trying to add a bit of flair to the way she called up her human disguise. She could cast it without a lot of trouble, most of the time anyway, but it took a lot of effort. It was never smooth or graceful like a properly cast spell should be. When Mom had taken her into the mortal world to see the fireworks for New Year’s Eve, she’d watched Toby struggle through her casting and sighed quietly, before smiling over-bright and saying that she knew Toby was doing the best that she could.

It couldn’t be the best she was capable of, not if it was that disappointing to Mom. Toby had been working on it ever since, and her head was one constant ache from the magic burn. She knew that she should take a break. Anything she cast while she was this exhausted didn’t really mean anything anyway with regards to her skill. Toby laid back on her bed, not even bothering to toe off her shoes or turn to lay down properly. One hour. She would give it one hour before she tried anything else.

The fireworks had been beautiful, which was something at least. And more importantly, it was something Mom had wanted to do with her. It felt like Mom was home less and less, even if she was living in the tower again. Even when she was physically there, she didn’t feel very present most of the time. The fireworks were supposed to be a way to start the New Year off differently, a way to remind Mom of why she had come home and of why she should want to be a family again. Instead, all Toby had managed to do was remind her of what a failure her stupid changeling daughter was. Toby needed to do better. She just wasn’t sure how.

Toby smelled a light wave of lemon balm just before she felt the added weight on her bed. She didn’t open her eyes. Now that she had finally allowed them to close she was just too tired, and couldn’t bear the idea of seeing bright light again so soon. The bed creaked as Julie shifted from her cat form and re-settled herself. Toby could feel the other girl staring at her, but she resolutely ignored her. After several long minutes of silence, Julie gave in first.

“You know, if you sleep like that you’ll wake up with a crick in your neck.” She said with the practiced carelessness of tone that meant it actually mattered to her. With a groan, Toby dragged herself up the bed until her back was against the wall, flinging her shoes across the room as she went with a few wild turns of her ankles. Her eyes remained resolutely shut.

“If that good enough for you?” She asked, not trying at all to hide the irritation from her voice.

“Well excuse me for wanting you to be comfortable.” Julie said, her tone carrying neither heat nor annoyance. That element of control, so uncharacteristic of any challenged cat, but especially of Julie, finally made Toby open her eyes. She squinted against the light of the room as her headache flared again. On the surface Julie looked fine. Her hair was a bit mussed, but that was likely an expected product of living more than anything else.

“What’s wrong, Jules? I know there’s something, and my head hurts too much to fish it out of you.” Toby brought herself into a more upright position, crossing her ankles in front of her.

“Your head? Why? Why are you pushing your magic so much lately, Toby? You know it’s not good for you.” Julie seemed genuinely confused.

“Yeah, thanks mother.” Toby said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s not that bad, and anyway, I think I’ve been letting the pain make me lazy. I need to work more smoothly, and if I stop as soon as it hurts, I’m not really trying, am I?”

Julie looked at her in bewilderment before narrowing her eyes. “Is that you talking, or your mom?” she asked.

“What? Of course not!” Toby said. “Mom is always happy when- she’s proud of- she knows I try!” This last sounded far more plaintive then Toby had meant it to.

“Oh, I’m sure she does.” Julie said with a sneer. “She doesn’t talk to you for days, and then when she does it’s only to let you know how disappointed she is, how much happier she would be if you could only just be a little bit better.”

“She’s never said anything like that!” Toby insisted.

“She doesn’t have to, not when it’s so clear. You’re always trying so hard to make her happy, it’s making you miserable. You think we haven’t noticed? You were never like this before, it’s not you, Toby.” Julie’s tone grew plaintive.

“Maybe I’ve just changed.” Toby said firmly. “I’m not a kid anymore, I’m not lazy. I’m allowed to want to be better for me, aren’t I?”

“Of course you are.” Julie said. “But this is hurting you, physically, and I don’t think it’s because you want to be better for yourself. I think it’s because your mom has you so desperate for any scrap of approval she might give out that you’re willing to drive yourself into the ground to get it.”

“Oberon’s ass, Jules, you’re acting crazy. It’s not like she hits me or something.” Toby said in exasperation.

“No, of course not. If she did that your stupid uncle might have do something about it.” Julie said snidely.

  
“What, the way your uncle does something about it when those purebloods in his court beat on you?” Toby retorted. This had been a point of contention between the two of them for years. Julie insisted that the Court of Cats was different, and Toby just didn’t understand. She expected to hear these same arguments again, but instead Julie went quiet.

“Jules?” Toby asked after a few moments.

Julie sighed. “That’s why I came, actually. It’s- There’s a couple of guys, and they aren’t leaving me alone. And I could tell Uncle Tybalt, and he’d stop it, he doesn’t stand for that kind of thing. But he can’t be there all the time. I need to take care of it myself, and I don’t think I can beat them, Toby. I haven’t been able to so far, but it’s been in public enough places that they can’t do anything. I- I don’t want to go back there, right now.” She sounded small and lost, and also really sad.

“Well then you don’t have to.” Toby said firmly. “Just stay here for now.”

Julie looked at her in surprise. “But we’re fighting.”

“Hell yeah we are, and it’s no fun to fight with someone who’s too hurt to actually participate.” Toby said, forcing a bit of humor into her tone. Julie gave a small smile.

“Okay.” She switched back to the previous topic. “But it’s no fun for me if you’re hurt, either. You’ve been trying for years now to make this work, Toby, and it’s not. Your dad isn’t coming home, and even if your mom is here, she’s not  _here_  here, you know?”

Toby looked away. She couldn’t talk about these things. If she acknowledged them aloud they became real. Julie scooted over on the bed, putting a hand on Toby’s arm.

“You know he’s not coming home, don’t you Toby?” She asked softly. Toby kept her eyes fixed pointedly on the bedspread. “No one’s seen him in at least a year. If he was coming back, he would have done it by now.”

“But I’m trying!”  Toby said, her voice cracking into a sob. “I’m trying so hard, and if I could just be better Mom would be happy, and Papa would be able to come home, and everything would be alright again! I try and try, but I just can’t- I can’t, I’m not enough for her, and I never will be.” Now she’d said it. Now it was all out in the open, and she wasn’t sure where to go next.

“You’re enough for us.” Julie said, putting her arms around Toby. “You’re enough for me, and Stacy, and Kerry. You always have been.” Toby leaned against her, allowing herself to just enjoy the hug. How long had it been since someone had hugged her? Julie was right, she’d been ignoring her friends in favor of trying to work her way into Mom’s good graces. But it didn’t work, and Toby was starting to doubt that it ever would. She needed something else. She needed somewhere else. Leaning back, Toby turned to look at Julie without breaking the other girl’s embrace.

“How much time have you spent in the mortal world recently?” Toby asked, a mischievous look growing in her eyes.

“Not as much as I feel like I’m about to.” Julie responded with a grin of her own.

 

* * *

 

The whole idea of Soviet Communism had to be one of the worst things that had happened to the Westlands in the past fifty years. While other natural disasters had affected one kingdom or another, like the earthquake that had rocked the Mists and killed King Gilad, this travesty spanned the continent. It made the mortals paranoid of anything that stood out from whatever arbitrary baseline at which they had set ‘normal’, and often those things were of Faerie.

It was a real problem, and because it was more political than anything else, it was the type of problem that Simon was especially suited to solving. And of course it also brought him out of the Mists, away from Amy and October. But that was for the best. Evening knew it was for the best, and she’d always been so much better at knowing what he needed than Simon was. Just look at the trouble he’d gotten himself into, when he’d been left almost to his own devices for nearly a decade. Ten years wasted, when he should have been gathering power for himself and for his lady. Power was the only thing that would help in bringing August home.

Home to what? Part of his mind asked. Everything he had heard from his brother confirmed that while Amy was physically present, she wasn’t any more there than she had been in the years Simon had spent raising October. And while Evening had attempted to explain on his behalf what he was off doing, October had proved unreceptive. Surely she wasn’t blocked from writing in the same way that he was? Evening had said that October did appear to understand why he had to be away, but didn’t seem to be happy about it.

Evening’s reports were all that Simon had to go off of, since Amy’s spell was still in place. And he had to admit that October’s reaction made sense. He had promised her that whenever he left, he would always return, and for ten years he had kept that promise. He had built a home for her, and it was that home that he wanted to bring August back to, when he found her at last. Introduce her to her half-sister, let her see that he didn’t hold October in reproach for her origins, and so she shouldn’t either. They could be a real family, even if Amy stayed flighty and lost for the next century.

The part of his mind that had asked him about home in the first place flared again. October wasn’t writing to him, and Amy wasn’t letting Sylvester or anyone else who Simon spoke with into the tower. What guarantee did he have that doing these tasks for Evening would result in anything more than it had the last time? And even if he did find August, how did he know he would have a home to bring her to, by then?

Simon pushed these thoughts away. It wasn’t important. Finding August was the most important thing in the world, it was his north star. Once he’d found her, everything that he’d done to that end would be worth it.

Pushing back from the riverside railing, Simon pulled his coat tighter against the growing chill and set off down the Washington DC sidewalk. As he walked Simon mentally reviewed his coming meetings for the day. He was so close to success. Give it perhaps another week, and that wretched ‘Un-American Activities Committee’ would be a thing of the past. Perhaps when he moved on to his next task he would be able to return to the Mists.


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to JuniperQFox and /not/ my husband, because he's in South Korea this week. 
> 
> Hey look, it's Devin! Time marches on...

_June 15, 1975_

The mortal world had proved to be less of an adventure than Toby had hoped. Late nights in coffee shops were one thing, but the world wasn’t incredibly hospitable to young people who needed a place to sleep and didn’t have an work experience or references. Toby and Julie had spent a month squatting in unused houses and seriously regretting their choice to leave the Summerlands in the middle of winter. Julie at least could switch to cat form and get into warm places. Toby had to content herself with hours spent in coffee shops and diners, paying with leaves and bus transfers illusioned to look like wrinkled bills.

It was in one of these coffee shops that a man with wavy hair the color of tarnished brass sat down across from her and told her that her illusions needed work if she really wanted to get away with them in the long term. Once she would have been deeply offended, but Toby was simply too tired to care. She was beginning to feel like she would never feel warm again, the cold having sunk into her bones so thoroughly. But she was determined. She would make this work, not come crawling back to her mother or her uncle. She would manage.

That was what she told that man; that she was handling things, and she didn’t appreciate her uncle sending people after her. He had laughed uproariously and informed her that he had no connection to Shadowed Hills, nor would he ever want it. He was in charge of a place where changelings were able to be themselves, to not be held as lesser by the pure bloods surrounding them. 

He’d made it sound far nicer than it was, when she and Julie got there. But it was so many leagues better than the places she had been staying that Toby didn’t mind. It had heat, and enough random couches and mattresses scattered around that there was always a place to sleep. For now, that was enough. 

Nothing came free, whether pure bloods were involved or not, but at least Devin had been up front about what he wanted. Crime most certainly did pay, and there were all sorts of things that Faerie touched which, is not fully illegal, were dubious enough that most pure bloods didn’t want to be associated with them. That left a rather large opening, and Devin had been thrilled to fill it. He was happy to give a home to any changelings who needed it, in exchange for them working for him and looking after his interests.

Toby had been somewhat dubious at the beginning, but the idea of having actual backup when things got rough, people who were on her level, instead of swooping in to save her and disappearing again, made it worth it. It had certainly been worth it when the guys who had been harassing Julie had tried to come around. They had cornered her in an alley outside Home. Apparently going to the shadow roads would have just made things worse. Toby wasn’t clear on how, but she trusted Julie to know what she was talking about when it came to things like this.

Toby had been able to grab half a dozen of their new friends, and it had been incredibly satisfying to beat the ever living shit out of those guys. It had been three days ago now, and she was still riding the adrenaline high of it. Oh, sure, Devin had been pissed that she’d done it without his permission. The bruises and claw marks she had from the fight were slowly fading, but even though it hadn’t left a mark, the slap he’d laid across her face as she explained that she hadn’t had time, that it had been an emergency, stung more than everything else. She’d been afraid at first that he was going to throw her and Julie out. But he’d seemed satisfied that he’d taught her a lesson, and had let it go.

Still, Toby had decided that staying out of his hair for a few days was probably for the best. She and Julie did all of their tasks to the letter, door detail and delivery runs and anything else he asked, and then they made themselves scarce.

Now that they had a place to stay, a place to shower and store clothes and generally make it so they weren’t walking around looking bedraggled and homeless (which they had been, but that wasn’t important), Toby was more confident in the possibility of running into people she knew. It was a beautiful day, and she and Julie chose spend it walking Golden Gate Park.

Summer was just beginning, and the weather was warm and pleasant instead of hot and miserable. Julie had come to the park in her cat form, but was now walking beside Toby, wearing an airy sundress and no shoes. Toby wore jeans and a tank top as she always did, because was the point of living in the mortal world if you still had to wear dresses all the time?

“Interesting that now you feel this is an appropriate place to be, after all these month. Whatever could have changed?” The voice of Julie’s Uncle Tybalt came from behind them, causing them both to jump and turn. Julie took a half step forward, putting herself just slightly in front of Toby.

“Don’t you always say that cats are free to go wherever they want? And it’s a public park. Why wouldn’t we be here?” Julie’s voice remained shockingly level, given the amount of fire and sass she usually spoke with.

“And yet you have seen fit to grace neither the park nor the court since the year began. Now finally I hear word of you, and it is that you are standing against your brethren, next to members of the Divided Courts?” Tybalt made his question sound so reasonable that Julie hung her head.  Before she could do something like apologizing, Toby broke in.

“So you’re here to drag her back to court now, is that it? Cats are free, until they do something you don’t like?” Toby hoped she had laced her voice with enough sarcasm to cover her fear. If he wanted to take Julie, she wouldn’t have a dream of stopping him. And what would she do if she was left all alone? She had other friends at Home now, sure, but not like Julie.

“Of course not.” Rather than getting angry, Tybalt simply sounded a bit sad, and ignored Toby completely to look at Julie. “I am loyal to my court, even when they are not loyal to me.”

Julie hung her head even further. Toby bristled.

“Oh sure, you’re loyal now that Julie’s proven she can defend herself. Never mind all the months when she didn’t want to come to court because she was too afraid. Fear and weakness aren’t allowed, is that it?” Tybalt looked as though he wanted to say something, but Toby pushed on. “They didn’t leave her alone because of anything you said, she had to prove that she has friends who have her back. And now that she has, you want her to feel bad about it? Oh yes, I can see how much better and more equal your court is for people like us.” Giving the King of Cats a look of utter disgust, Toby turned on her heel and stalked away, feeling Julie come alongside her and take her hand.

They walked in silence to the edge of the park, before Julie finally spoke.

“I really don’t think he knew, Toby.” She said quietly.

Toby sighed. “Maybe he didn’t. But they thought it was okay. To corner you, to scare you. To touch you without asking. If he’s really in charge, then something about the way he runs things made them think they wouldn’t get in trouble.” They walked in silence for a few more blocks, until they hit a place where the streets were deserted.

“I appreciate you standing up for me.” Julie said, squeezing Toby’s hand as the scent of lemon balm filled the air. Moments later, she arranged herself around Toby’s shoulders, a soft, comforting weight.

“Always.” Toby said, reaching up to scratch her friend’s ears as she brought them both back Home.

* * *

 

Pulling the scarf he wore over his nose and mouth tighter, Simon put his head down and stepped out into the sandy street. The Kingdom of Angels was always a bit of a hazard, but this current weather pattern was really pushing it over the top. Still, his Lady had been very specific about the time table of his current assignment.

There was a campaign underway to unseat the current king in Angels, and for reasons that she had not seen fit to share, his Lady had decided that this would not stand. The head of the growing rebellion was a Tylwyth Teg, probably still trying to find a new place for himself after the war in Silences had scattered so many of that race to the winds. But his second in command was a changeling, and perhaps that was what made this bid for power different from others past. If this challenger became king, he would have unprecedented support from the changelings of his holding, more even then King Gilad had enjoyed, because in this case they would have been instrumental in bringing him to power.

Perhaps that explained why his Lady had taken issue. Most pure bloods viewed changelings with a certain level of disdain, but she had always been a bit severe in that area. Rightly so, he was quick to remind himself. It wouldn’t do, of course, to have people like that involved in something as important as governance. Give them an inch, even in a place as reputed for wildness and disorder as Angels, and suddenly they would be wanting involvement in the running of proper kingdoms. No, that would not do at all.

Simon could barely make out the shape of the bus stop, even from only a few yards away. But it had one of those little three sided shelters, just as he knew it would, so that should provide some help. He ducked inside, nodding briefly to the other people crammed into the small space. Five minutes later a bus came, and everyone got onto it, save for him and one other man. Everything was going according to plan.

Gripping the length of cord in his pocket a bit tighter, Simon turned to the remaining person.

“Excuse me, when does it say the next bus comes?” he asked, gesturing to the schedule affixed to the shelter wall beside the man. As his target turned to check, Simon took a deep breath, and then struck, taking the cord from his pocket and looping it around his hands, then around the neck of the short Gwragen changeling. The man struggled, unable to cry out with his air cut off as it was. He clawed at Simon’s arm, but Simon had the advantage of both height and leverage. It seemed like it took forever for him to go still, though Simon knew it couldn’t have been more than a minute or so.

Once he had confirmed the man was indeed no longer breathing, Simon looped the cord back up before placing it into his pocket once more and stepping out of the shelter. The night haunts would take care of everything else. Perhaps they wouldn’t even leave a sign of their going, since this was the mortal world. But it didn’t really matter. The would-be king would assume that the current ruler of Angels had had his friend removed, and would view it as an attack. He would move too early, before his people were really prepared to take on a sitting monarch, and they would be crushed.

Yes, Simon thought, was he slipped away into the sand filled night. Everything was going according to plan.


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to JuniperQFox and my husband.
> 
> This chapter references one of the Patreon stories pretty heavily, the most recent Patrick and Dianda one. I've included a summary at the end of the chapter, for anyone not current or who doesn't read those stories.

_November 11 th, 1975_ 

In all the years that she had spent training in physical combat at Shadowed Hills, Toby had never found this level of satisfaction. Even when her partners had been asshole noble kids, there was a level of formality and restraint required which meant that training was not truly a time to let loose. Now, with Devin, she learned a style of fighting much less concerned with honor and form, and much more concerned with taking your opponent down by any means necessary. It suited her far better, especially as she grew into a height more in line with her parents, which allowed her to pick people up and shake them when it was needed.

If Toby was honest with herself, she couldn’t really remember whether or not her mortal father had been tall. Everyone seemed tall when you were a child, and she couldn’t remember how he had looked standing in relationship to her mother. Some days she couldn’t remember how he had looked at all, but she tried not to dwell on that. Mom was tall, and so was Papa, and that was what she was choosing to think about, when she let herself think about them at all. Which right now, she really shouldn’t.

“Would you like to reconsider that?” she asked, grinning widely as she shook that man in her hold again. He hadn’t wanted to listen to her, at first. She was a changeling, what right did she have to even speak to him, let alone to try and tell him what to do? A year ago, Toby would have been used to that, and willing to let it go. Oh, she’d complain to her friends later, but in the moment? She wouldn’t dream of making a scene, not when the news of it might get back to her mother. A year ago, if a pureblood told her that they were better, there was a part of her that would believe them.

People tended to talk down to those on Devin’s crew, but the more work Toby did for him, the more she realized that it wasn’t actually the petty crime that they had a problem with. It was the fact that someone dared to make a place for changelings outside of the hierarchy of the courts. They had everything they needed here, and they got it for themselves. No one could tell them what to do, or when and where to bow and scrape.

By that same note, no one could tell them that the pleasures of the purebloods were more important than protecting themselves, which had led to that day’s work. Goblin fruit had started to appear on the streets of San Francisco. Not with regularity, Devin would never have allowed it to get to that point, but often enough that it clearly wasn’t the odd tourist with a stash. A week and a half of hunting had led Toby to the diminutive Glastig currently sputtering as she held him up against the alley wall. The backup that Devin had supplied her with once she had a solid lead blocked the ends of the alley, making it clear that there would be no escape.

“I don’t have to tell you anything, you stupid bitch.” The Glastig spat, eyes flicking back and forth, trying to find an exit and coming up short.

“No, you don’t.” Toby replied, keeping her voice light and amiable. “I don’t really care what you have to say. I just need you to stay here long enough to listen. Can you do that?” She looked pointedly down at his hooved feet, hanging a solid foot off the ground. “Looks like you can. So listen to this. You are going to take your drugs and get out of our city by dawn tomorrow.” She gave him a final shake before dropping him to the ground. He caught himself before falling. Barely.

Taking a moment to smooth his clothing, the Glastig looked up at her with a sneer.

“Or what? I could have the lot of you gutted, and there’s not a person in the kingdom who would care. You lay one finger on me, and it’s a breach of the law. Don’t think for a second the queen wouldn’t hear about it. She doesn’t hold with it when the trash starts getting uppity.” His expression turned into a leer as he allowed his gaze to travel up and down Toby’s body. “How about you make it worth my while, or else she’ll hear about it anyway?” he asked.

Jasper, a Cu Sidhe changeling who was part of Toby’s backup, let out a low growl, and Toby could feel him stepping up behind her. Jasper was a good guy, and he didn’t stand for that kind of talk. Toby held up a hand, and he stopped. She smiled. Jasper was also very good at following orders. The fact that someone was willing to follow her instantly made her feel more intimidating, and she could see as the leer slid off of the Glastig’s face that he agreed.

“Oberon’s Law only counts if they find the body.” Toby said, keeping her voice cheerful and amiable. “It’s a very big city, we’ve got forests and sewers and even an ocean. All kinds of exciting places where no one ever goes.” She smiled, allowing her eyes to take on a feral glint, and was rewarded when the man before her gulped. “Oh, and there’s one other thing. The Law only counts if we kill you. It sounds like you might need some extra incentive to leave, don’t you guys think?” This last was directed over her shoulder. Jasper resumed his growl, and Mark and Evan laughed scornfully.

Toby stepped back, letting the guys move in. They’d have their fun, and then she’d come back in, all reasonable and without the man’s blood on her knuckles, to make sure the point had gotten across. Neat and tidy, just live Devin liked it.

************

When they arrived back at Home, Toby sent the guys to wash up. The furniture in this place was dubious enough without adding blood stains. She trooped up the stairs to Devin’s office to give her report. All the bravado the Glastig had displayed had disappeared when Mark broke his nose. She had every confidence that by dawn the next day he would be gone.

Toby knocked lightly on the door labeled ‘Manager’.

“Come in.” Devin said.

Toby entered the room, standing in front of the desk which Devin lounged in a leather chair behind. There were chairs in front of the desk as well, but Toby felt like sitting uninvited would imply something, and she wasn’t sure she had earned that yet. That was important here. Everyone looked out for each other, and for Devin’s interests, but you had to earn your place and your rights. Toby had been careful to prove how worthy of a place she could be, since the incident months before when she had overstepped to get Julie out of a tight spot.

She hated feeling like she had to follow anyone’s rules, but at the same time she could acknowledge that at least Devin’s rules made sense. Home kept its place in the world, kept them safe, by only causing a certain amount of trouble. That meant that anything involving purebloods had to be approved, because if someone took offense it could put them all in danger. Not because they were wrong, but because the world was wrong, and it was where they were all stuck living.

Devin looked up at her in a way that still managed to make it feel like he was looking down his nose.

“Well?” He asked.

“He’ll be gone by tomorrow. He won’t like it, but he’ll like it better than staying.” Toby said, allowing her feral little smile to return. This was the first time Devin had let her be in charge of something, instead of backing up someone else, and she had enjoyed it. That man had been pushing something that hurt her people, something that made them helpless and afraid. And instead, Toby had been able to make him afraid of them. It felt wonderful.

Devin chuckled and stood up. “Excellent. I was surprised you found him so quickly. You’re sure it’s only the one dealer?” he asked, coming around the desk to stand in front of her.

“As sure as I can be. We found traces of five sales, and they all led back to him. My father taught me how to track things down, and be thorough. I don’t have any reason to think-” Toby stopped when Devin held up a finger.

“I believe you were thorough. You showed me your work, after all. It’s quite impressive. And I was impressed with how you handled yourself tonight, and how you managed your little crew.” At her look of confusion, he smiled. “You think I didn’t have someone watching? It’s your first run of something, Toby. I believed you could do it, but goblin fruit is too important to leave anything to chance.” She nodded in understanding. Of course there would have been a backup plan.

“But it wasn’t needed. As ever, I am impressed and pleased with your skills.” Devin reached up and brushed a piece of Toby’s hair back from her face, turning his hand so that it caressed her cheek. Toby was suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. His hand trailed down her neck, coming to rest on her pulse point. “Perhaps,” he said, voice low and husky “there’s some other skills of yours we could take a chance on?”

Toby cocked her head, both in consideration and to lean into his touch. After a moment’s contemplation, she smiled lightly, before reaching up and drawing Devin down into a kiss.

* * *

 

Returning to the Mists was always difficult for Simon. Being that close to Amy and October but knowing that he couldn’t do anything about it made his heart hurt. His only comfort was that it was here that he was able to see his Lady, and her very presence was always a balm to him. Oleander sometimes came to visit him when he traveled, both to bring him news of his Lady and to keep him company, but it was only in his Lady’s presence that he felt truly at peace.

Now, having visited her and reported on yet another successful task, he rode the gentle high of her profuse praise. He may not have been able to fix things with his family, not yet, but he could do something right, and he could do it for _her_ , which made it all the better. Feeling at peace and relaxed for the first time in months, Simon strode lazily down the beach near Goldengreen’s rocky cliff border.

“Simon?” a call behind him made Simon turn. A few yards down the beach stood Patrick Lorden, pieces of sea foam clinging to his tall boots, only to be blown away when the coastal winds gusted. The light smile that had been playing on Simon’s lips widened into a delighted grin. He clambered over to hug Patrick, heedless of the damp clinging to the other man’s clothing. It was far less than he would have expected, honestly, given that he knew his friend had just walked out of the water.  

“Patrick! I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten how to leave the Undersea entirely! And how is your lovely lady wife?” Simon asked exuberantly. He broke their embrace but maintained a hand on Patrick’s shoulder, looking at him more closely. He appeared fit and healthy as ever, and his role as ducal consort meant that his clothes were now selected for him by someone who actually understood what ‘matching colors’ were. Simon had attempted for years to improve his friend’s standards for clothing, but since they were always to end up covered in mechanic’s oil and the dust of the workshop, Patrick couldn’t be made to care.

Life in the Undersea seemed also to have done wonders for his friend’s self-confidence. The creation of clever solutions to problems seemed to be more valued there, possibly due to the nature of water to erode spells that were exposed to it for long periods of time. Whatever the reason, Duchess Lorden’s court seemed to have come to terms with their Daoine Sidhe lord, and Patrick seemed to be thriving.

“Dianda is as lovely as ever.” Patrick said with a grin. “She sends her regards. Though,” and here his smile dropped, “we are both worried for you.” When Simon responded only with confusion, Patrick continued. “We thought you’d finally gotten away from her, when you went back to live in Amy’s tower and raise her little girl. Now you are barely here, and when you are it’s always with _her_. What has she done to you this time, my friend?” Now it was Patrick’s turn to look him over, though what he hoped to find Simon couldn’t begin to guess.

“Now Patrick.” He began, soothingly, “I know you have some past quarrels with my Lady, but surely it isn’t such that you think-”

“Past quarrels?” Patrick narrowed his eyes. “She would have had me kill my wife, by my own hand, and you would consider that to be merely a quarrel? You know what she’s like, Simon. You’ve known for centuries. Why would you seek her aid and favors? What good could you possibly imagine coming from it?”

“What other choice did I have?” Simon retorted. “Who else would have the power to help me find August? You know the reaches of my Lady’s power, you know that she can do anything. I just need to prove my worthiness of the gift-”

“And how many more decades do you expect to spend proving your worthiness, while your elder daughter remains lost, and your younger daughter grows more lost by the day? Even in the Undersea, I have ways of getting news, of keeping an eye on those I wish. She needs her father.” Patrick said, his voice growing urgent and gentle at the same time as he spoke of October. Simon hadn’t even known that his friend knew of Amy’s other child. He should have introduced them, he had meant to, but it never seemed to be the right time.

“There’s nothing I can do about that right now. She needs to be alive and healthy far more than she needs me in her life. Especially now, when I’m so close. Dawn says that her sister grows closer to an answer every day.” Simon spoke to remind himself as much as to convince Patrick.

“Dawn is willfully blind to her sister’s misdeeds, she has been for years. You know that just as well as I do. You _told_ me that, years ago. Have you really forgotten so much?” Patrick’s concern seemed only to grow. That wouldn’t do.

“Patrick,” Simon looked at him, poring over all he knew of his Lady, of Patrick, of their small but troublesome shared history. “Patrick, have you ever considered that it could have been a misunderstanding?” When Patrick’s look turned to one of confusion he continued. “Of course my Lady doesn’t approve of your marriage, but there’s nothing so special about that, among the Divided Courts. Your own parents took issue. Perhaps you misunderstood the depths of her disapproval?” That had to be it. One as gracious as his Lady would never turn her back on one of her own kind over something so trivial.

Patrick’s eyes widened as he caught Simon’s meaning, his look becoming briefly horrified before his gaze narrowed.

“I had hoped to avoid this.” He said. Before Simon could ask what he meant, Patrick had hauled him off the ground and was carrying him towards the water. Simon’s brief startlement wore off and he began to struggle, but he found the strength of his arms to be no match for someone whose primary mode of transport was swimming. Patrick carried him into the waves, heedless of both their clothes, and plunged Simon under the frothing water.

Simon gasped, and quickly regretted it as he took in a mouthful of salt water. He struggled under the waves, but Patrick held him down forcefully. Something seemed to tighten around him, in his head and in his heart, warming them against the invading cold. When he was at last let up, he coughed and gasped, ignoring for the moment that he was still waist deep in seawater. Nothing mattered except that he could breathe again. He clung to Patrick for balance, but once his breath came back to him he stepped away, anger flashing in his eyes.

“What in Oberon’s name do you think you’re doing?” he asked his friend. Patrick’s eyes widened.

“Do you still not see? Do you still not know what she’s done to you?” Patrick asked, almost pleading.

“I see that time spent amongst lesser beasts has addled your brain!” Simon replied, almost shouting, and only in part of be heard over the waves. When Patrick took another step towards him he stepped back. How could he have allowed someone who had lowered themselves to being with a Merrow to touch him? Patrick aborted his step forward.

“Blood magic, not flower magic.” He said, clearly to himself more than to Simon, before continuing more directly. “Oh, my friend, I am so, so sorry. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me.  I’ll find something else, I swear it!” With that, Patrick took a bottle from his pocket, drinking the contents before diving beneath the waves. He did not resurface.

Simon walked briskly out of the water, shaking himself as he went. He had begun the afternoon feeling so peaceful, and now all he wanted was to bathe, to remove the dreadful film he could feel gathering on his skin, a combination of salt and practically consorting with Merrow. He shuddered, in cold and disgust, before turning up the hill. He was near enough to Goldengreen that surely his lady would allow him use of her baths. And perhaps in her wisdom she would be able to explain the madness that had overtaken his friend. Perhaps they would be able to help him, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patreon Story:  
> Evening had in a previous story attempted to get in the way of Patrick and Dianda's courtship. Patrick goes to tell her to stay out of things, and she puts a whammy on him such that he sees all non-human-type Fae as lesser and disgusting, and also such that he tries to go after Dianda and kill her. Simon catches on to what is happening and fetches Dianda, and the two of them use sea water to break the spell, because flower magic degrades in salt water.


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning on this chapter for implied threat of sexual assault. I did not think that it was significant enough to add a tag for, but if someone disagrees please let me know.
> 
> Beta credit to JuniperQFox and my husband. 
> 
> So I was going back to read the Devin parts of Rosemary and Rue, and apparently Julie's name is Julie, not Julia? I would have sworn it was Julia. So anyway, I'm correcting it going forward, and I'll be going back when I finish this story and go back over it, and change them all to Julie.

_April 2 nd, 1978_

Toby clutched her large mug of steaming coffee in both hands, wincing as she hit the cut on her lip while taking a drink. The weather was in that stage of spring where it couldn’t seem to decide whether or not it was truly done being winter yet, and today seemed to be erring on the side of keeping things cold and damp. After last night, Toby wasn’t sure she would ever feel warm again. Last night she had gone out with the group that she had begun to think of as her personal brute squad: Jasper, John, Mikey, and of course Julie. It was the same sort of task as usual; telling other unsavory people that this area belonged to Devin, and they needed to clear out and go be unsavory elsewhere. They had done it dozens of times before, over the years. It should have been simple.

What they were not expecting was the level of firepower this group had at their disposal. Changelings didn’t shun firearms the way that purebloods did, but they weren’t overly common either. Things had gone south fast, and now Jasper lay in a sterile, tucked away room at Home, a hole in his abdomen, and Toby worried that he wasn’t going to wake up.

Jasper was one of the nicest people she had ever met, on par with Melly and Stacey. More like Stacey, because his concern always felt like an older brother’s rather than a parent’s. He was one of the oldest residents of Home, not quite as old as Devin, but only just, and he made it his business to keep the younger changelings safe while they worked through their anger and inner fire, until they found their caution. If Toby had had an older sibling, she imagined they would be like Jasper.

He’d stepped in front of Mikey when the guns came out, and now he was lying in bed, and everyone who knew anything about first aid was trying to help him, because they couldn’t take him to the hospital, not when he might lose control and shift at any moment. She’d been sent downstairs when she wouldn’t stop pacing outside his door, and then sent out of the building entirely when she wouldn’t stop snapping at the new kids on door detail. So now she sat curled in a ratty armchair in the coffee shop two doors down, cold, undercaffeinated, and miserable.

Someone stopped in front of her, and Toby could see the glimmer of a human disguise spell covering their shoes. No one from Home bothered to spell things besides their faces, preferring to wear ‘normal’ clothes and save on magic. None of their enemies would be stupid enough to come after her here, this close to Home. Which really only left one option.

Being raised as she had been, Toby knew far more of the court courtesies than the other kids at Home. That made her the ideal choice for Devin to drape over his arm when he wrangled an invitation to one of the fancy noble’s parties. She knew part of it was because of who she was; daughter of Amandine, the best blood worker in Faerie. He was using her, be then wasn’t everyone using everyone? She used Devin, for a place to stay, for social clout, and because he made her feel beautiful when he took her to bed.

It was once she had started attending those parties that people from her old life in the courts really knew where she was, instead of just rumors and hearsay. And it meant it was easy for elements of her old life to come calling after her.

“Look, this isn’t a good time. Just tell him to forget about it, okay?” Toby said, not looking up from the floor.

“When has it ever been a good time?” Sylvester asked, his voice light and familiar. Toby looked up sharply. He hadn’t come himself before. He’d sent messengers, sure. Etienne once, and hadn’t that been an entertaining disaster. But he’d never once come himself, and Toby refused to go to Shadowed Hills. At first, it would have felt like admitting defeat. Now she felt more confident. She knew who she was, and what she could do. But she didn’t feel like who she was now was something that Sylvester, or Oberon forbid her mother, would appreciate.

Yesterday, she would have told him to get out, and ignored him until he left. Yesterday, she hadn’t just watched her friend get shot. Today, she set her mug down on the floor and stood to hug Sylvester tightly. He held her, not asking any questions, not yet. After several long minutes, she took a step back from him. His hand immediately went to her face, taking in the black eye and split lip.

“What on earth have you done to yourself?” he asked, it sounded more out of reflex than of actually wanting an answer. Toby gave a harsh bark of laughter.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. It happens.” She said, not wanting things to get distracted so soon. She didn’t miss being in Sylvester’s court, truly. But she missed him dearly. She wanted nothing in that moment more than she wanted for him and Papa to wrap her in the comforting scents of daffodils and cider, smoke and safety.

“It is most certainly not fine. Why don’t you come to Shadowed Hills, October?” When she stiffened, he continued, “You don’t have to stay, just come for a bit. Just to see Jin and get yourself patched up, hmm?” Jin. Of course! How could she have forgotten? Hope surging in her, she thought quickly.

“Sylvester,” she asked cautiously, “Could you ask Jin to come here?” That would of course mean convincing Devin to let her in, but Toby could deal with that next. After all, it would only matter if Sylvester said yes. Looking confused, Sylvester nodded slowly.

“I could, certainly. Is there something else the matter? Do you not think you can walk?” His look of concern grew by the minute.

“No, no, nothing like that.” Toby said hurriedly. “I’m fine, I swear. But one of my friends is the reason I’m fine, and he’s been shot.” Sylvester’s eyes widened.

“Shot? October, what in Oberon’s name have you been getting yourself mixed up in?” he asked with alarm.

“It’s fine, it’s not- things aren’t normally like this, I swear.” She drew herself up. “We’re protecting ourselves, and making sure the city is safe for people of mixed blood, who don’t want to be beholden to a court.” It might be one of Devin’s party lines, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

“Beholden? Is that how you feel it was?” Sylvester asked, searching her face. Toby looked away.

“Not with you, Uncle. Not really. But you have to know that most people aren’t like you, especially not when it comes to people like me.” Toby met his gaze. She needed to bring this back to her goal. “And anyway, I’ve been learning so much out in the world. I’m more useful now. If you as Jin to come, I can- well, I can’t pay, but I can work for you. I can find things, or people, or information. Anything you need, I’ll get it.” Toby had thought that Sylvester would be happy to have evidence that she was finally carving a niche for herself. She hoped he would at least believe that she could be useful. It really was something she was good at, Devin even said so, and he was more stingy with praise than with anything else.

Instead Sylvester just looked a bit sad.

“October. Of course I’ll bring Jin. All you ever need do is ask. You don’t need to feel as though you owe me.” When Toby went to speak, he put a finger to her lips. “But I know you’ll be happier feeling we’re square, so give me this; once a week, for the next year, I want you to come to Shadowed Hills for dinner. Not to court, just with Luna and I. Will you do that?” Toby felt slightly stunned. He seemed so sincere. Even after everything, Uncle Sylvester loved her, and really did seem to just want her company. Eyes wide, Toby nodded.

“Alright then.” Sylvester said with a smile. “Let’s see to your friend, shall we?” With a gentle hand at the small of her back, he guided her out of the café.

 

* * *

 

Taking a seat toward the end of one of the long tables that filled the meal hall, Simon nodded to his neighbors before quietly taking note of his surroundings. As an unlanded Daoine Sidhe pureblood, he had far more freedom to travel and enjoy the hospitality of other nobles and courts, though he hadn’t chosen to exercise that freedom overly much in recent years. Now his Lady’s commands allowed him to take time enjoying a royal court’s luxuries, and he intended to relish the chance.

The royal court of Silences was a bit of an oddity. It was as though someone had read a great many books about how a royal court should be run, and had no one to tell them that most of those books were at least a century out of date. If it had been everything, and if all of the strangeness had dated back to the same period, it could have been put down to eccentricity and aesthetic. Instead the procedures and graces seemed to be a mixture of old formalities, while the styles of dress were all far more modern, though still not current.

Neither of these matched the stark décor of the place. It was as though King Rhys had taken anything that might remind visitors of the former monarchs and thrown it out, but not taken the time to replace it. He’d had nearly a century at this point, yet still the place looked sparser than a mortal hotel, and had about the same amount of character. The deposed monarchs would be awakening from their slumber soon, and wouldn’t it be interesting to see how Rhys chose to avoid breaking Oberon’s Law now that war was no longer declared?

Still, none of this was Simon’s concern. And perhaps it would even work to his advantage. With a court as oddly off kilter as this, surely its inhabitants would be all the more eager for an escape from their daily troubles. A day to ascertain who would be most appropriate to speak with about something as base and common as shipment routing, and another to ensure that his Lady would benefit from their course of supply. Things would be wrapped up tidily, and Simon would be free to enjoy his travels and the hospitalities they afforded him.

The court stood when Rhys entered, then sat again once he had. Servers appeared, and began offering the courtiers their choice of food. Simon raised his eyebrows. As with many courts, there were changelings among the service staff. A more thorough survey of the room told Simon that every single one of the serving staff here were changelings. In retrospect, Simon realized that it was the first time he had seen anyone who appeared to be of less than full and pure blood while he was in this holding. Part of the question of what drew his Lady to this place was suddenly clear.

It was refreshing to see a holding that understood the proper order of things. There was plenty of work to be done in Faerie, and no need to be cruel to changelings, so long as they remembered their place and did not upset their betters. If only his brother could come to understand this, perhaps he would be able to put aside his disagreements with Simon’s Lady and with the Queen of the Mists. Perhaps, if Simon could explain to him how pleasant things were here, Sylvester could be convinced. He was the lynch pin of the hold-outs against the Queen’s wishes, and the only one with any real standing. But this was political, and his brother had never enjoyed politics. It shouldn’t be at all difficult for Simon to sway him on these matters, and together they would work to make the Mists as orderly as the court of Silences.

Pleasant thoughts of the future buoyed Simon through dinner, and he made light conversation with his neighbors while keeping an eye on those he had identified earlier as possibilities for who would be best to speak with about his Lady’s interests. Who the court looked to, after King Rhys, was fairly easy to see, but that was not show Simon wanted. No, he needed to find someone who wanted to be in that position, but had not yet managed it. They would be willing to listen to him, especially when he put forth an opportunity of finding a way into the inner circle.

The meal finished, and the king wished his court a good morning before sweeping out of the room in an overly grand manner that seemed well suited to the way he kept his court. Conversations drew to a close as everyone wound their way off to entertain themselves at smaller, private gatherings, or simply to bed. By tomorrow morning Simon planned to have inserted himself well enough into the conversation and the fabric of things that he would have at least one invitation to a quiet evening’s conversation. For tonight though, simply being known as present was enough, and he would enjoy the time to himself.

The way through the halls to the guest room he had been given was winding, and somewhat confusing. Tylwyth Tyg had their own odd architectural habits; in that was it was very like King Gilad’s knowe had been, only with less chance of falling from a great height. The lack of adornment in the halls meant that every passage looked the same, and Simon was beginning to wonder if he should have been marking his turns in chalk to make sure he wasn’t going in circles. Raised voices around the corner drew his attention.

“Come along now, there’s no need to be like that.” The speaker was male, and sounded overly genial in a way that usually meant trouble for someone.

“Miles has been telling all his friends what a sweet thing you are. You wouldn’t want to make a liar of him, would you?” This second man didn’t bother to cover his menace with geniality. Simon strode around the corner and then stopped, not hiding in any way, but also not drawing attention to himself as he surveyed the scene before him.

A tall Daoine Sidhe man with long golden hair stood with his back to Simon. A few feet away a man who looked like a twin of the first, only slightly shorter, had a changeling girl in a servant’s uniform by the arm, crowding her against the wall. Her eyes were wide and terrified, and as she tried to pull away the shorter man backhanded her roughly across the face.

“Excuse me,” Simon said, keeping his tone one of polite disinterest. “I seem to have lost my way to the guest wing?” The two men turned. Simon could see now that the taller of the pair was one of those he’d marked as a possibility for securing his Lady’s interests. The man, Miles, had dropped a few pointed compliments in the form of flattering Simon’s abilities as a diplomat, and Simon had responded in a way that indicated he may indeed have a way to help Miles better his status. Clearly the other man had taken the implications to heart. His face turned to a study in calculated solicitousness.

“My lord Torquill, I do hope you have been enjoying your stay in our court thus far.” At Simon’s nod he continued. “The palace can be a bit of a maze, sometimes I don’t know what the builders could have been thinking.” His smile broadened as he very exaggeratedly ‘thought of’ a solution. “But of course! Talia here can show you to your quarters. I’m sure she will make sure you are most well taken care of, won’t you my dear? It wouldn’t do at all to not show our very best hospitality to guests.” He turned to the serving girl as he said the last part, and Simon could easily guess what his expression might now hold. He would need to look for a different avenue for his Lady, as this one clearly lacked the subtlety and common sense that Oberon gave to pixies.

The serving girl stepped forward, dipping a curtsy before saying softly “Of course my lord. This way my lord.” She gestured back the way Simon had come. Nodding his thanks- always a better option than finding a clumsy way to get around speaking it- Simon bid the men good morning and followed his guide down the hall.

They backtracked two corners before reaching a fork where Simon had been sure he was supposed to go right. The girl went left, and after one more turn, they arrived at a door Simon recognized. Taking the key from his pocket, Simon opened the door and entered. He had intended to bid the girl farewell in the hall, but found that she had followed him into the room. He stood, his hand halfway to pushing the door shut.

“I’m quite sure I can find my own way from here.” He said, keeping his tone light and joking, but also questioning. He didn’t want the girl to think she was being reprimanded, not with how jumpy the few staff he had encountered seemed to be.

“I wish for you to have our very best hospitality, my lord.” Said the girl, her eyes fixed on the floor. Her muddy brown hair was coming loose from its braid and falling into her face, and in that moment she reminded Simon so much of October. The thought of those men hitting her and pushing her around caused a rage to build in him, so suddenly that is was startling. Simon put a finger under her chin to tilt her head up. As soon as he made contact she started to tremble minutely, and when her eyes did meet his they held a mix of fear and resignation. Simon considered for a moment.

“Do you have a way back to the servant’s halls from here? Some way by which those two aren’t likely to see you?” he asked. Her eyes darted towards the hallway, and in the moments of silence between them that fell then, Simon could hear that the other men had followed along behind, even if it was at a distance. Her face fell, brown eyes that looked so familiar filling with despair in a way that Simon had seen before, and hated each and every time.

That decided it for him. Simon shut the door, before moving into the room proper. It was a small guest suite, a sitting room in case he needed to entertain guests, and a single bedroom off of that, with a connecting bathroom. Going into the bedroom, Simon retrieved the thick velvet blanket that was folded at the foot of the bed. When he came back into the sitting room, the girl had not moved from her place by the door. Her shoulders were hunched, arms hugging herself, and she tracked his movements with her eyes, as though she didn’t dare move.

Simon set the blanket down on the room’s small couch, then took a few steps back towards the bedroom.

“I’ll just leave this here, then.” He said, calmly and carefully. The poor girl was scared enough without him startling her. “I’d offer to take the couch myself, but I hardly think you would want me in the way of the door. You’re welcome to stay until you know they’re gone, however long that may be.” The girl’s expression was full of confusion and mistrust, but Simon could also see something else. Hope. It broke his heart that it took so small an act, and one that wasn’t even kindness so much as decency, to give this girl hope. Turning, he went into the bedroom and shut the door.

Maybe she would believe that he was sincere, and maybe she wouldn’t. A small part of his mind said that of course she should believe him; she was a changeling, what right did she have to question him? It was the natural order of things after all. But that same part of his mind also didn’t see anything wrong with what Miles and his friend had been doing, aside from the fact that they shouldn’t lower themselves in such a way. Simon imagined October, alone in a dark hallway with no one to help her. It should bother him, anger him, so much more than it did. He needed to think about that.

As Simon lay in bed, he sorted through his thoughts and feelings, and sleep did not come for a very long time.


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to JuniperQFox and my husband. 
> 
> This chapter has a lot of POV switching back and forth, always indicated by a line break.

_March 14 th, 1982_

 

Toby knew that she was being ridiculous. It wasn’t as though she had imagined that what she had with Devin was something grand and romantic, or even something exclusive. Half the girls and boys at Home were in and out of his bed over the years, it didn’t matter. But one of her friends from Home, Mitch, had started coming along when Toby and Julie went to see Stacey. This had gone on until the girls informed him that he wasn’t allowed to date by proxy anymore, which had prompted him to actually ask Stacey out.

They went really well together. They were both so good and kind, and they seemed to want the same things from life. Mitch had been talking about finding more stable work, maybe going to night school, so that they would be able to have the kind of future they wanted. That was what Devin had overheard, and he made a point of informing Mitch and anyone else within hearing that things like that never worked out, not for people like them. That changelings didn’t get a happily ever after, and Mitch was deluding himself if he thought he should try.

And maybe she didn’t want it with Devin, but Toby was beginning to think more and more often that she did want a happily ever after with someone, eventually. She’d thought that he knew her, understood her down to the very core of her bones and saw through any bullshit she tried to put up as a front. But how could he, if he didn’t even know anything about what she wanted? She’d also come to think of Devin as the absolute authority on what was possible for changelings. If he really didn’t think something would work out, did she have any chance at all?

All of these thoughts had brought her to her weekly lunch at Shadowed Hills a day early. She’d kept coming, even after the year she owed Sylvester was up. She hadn’t realized how much she missed that part of her family until she had them back. Even if things were sometimes awkward, Toby didn’t want them to go back to how they had been before. There were always things she could talk about with Uncle Sylvester and Aunt Luna that didn’t involve her choice of work and living space.

Of course, knowing that she was always welcome didn’t mean that her aunt and uncle were always available. She’d come entirely out of schedule, and so had been left to kick her heels in one of the private receiving rooms. That was good, it gave her time to think about how she was going to explain coming early, now that she was here. She couldn’t just tell them what had happened, that would give Uncle Sylvester yet another excuse to tell her the Home was a terrible place for her and she should really come live here, and  Toby just wasn’t up for that fight today. But she wanted to tell them some of it. She wanted the advice and reassurance of people she trusted, wanted them to tell her that it wasn’t silly to dream of being happy.

* * *

 

Simon could scarcely contain his excitement. It had been a long decade, and somewhat fraught at times, but he was finally free of his wife’s meddling. He had been staying away from Shadowed Hills ever since his Lady had mentioned that October had left her mother’s tower. He didn’t want to come into proximity with her and hurt her by accident. But that as no longer a concern, at last.

Now he just needed to find October. He’d stopped asking after her through his Lady years ago. For a long while it just hadn’t seemed important, and when he finally came to realize that perhaps that was a sign that something strange was happening, it seemed too late to start asking again. After he examined that further, he realized that what was really the case was that he didn’t want to ask his Lady, in case she had intended him to forget.

But those were contemplations for another time. Now he was here, and October was likely about somewhere. If she wasn’t here, Sylvester or one of her little friends would know where she was. Once he had presented himself at the door, the Candela guard, who was new enough that he did not recognize her, but not so new that she didn’t know her liege had a twin, had directed him to one of the private sitting rooms to wait, indicating that Sylvester would be in to see him shortly.

Simon opened the door he had been led to and stepped inside, stopping short. Slouched on the bench against the far wall sat October. She looked different; taller and slimmer, hair cut short and uneven in a way that was either very fashionable or had been done herself in a mirror while inebriated, it was hard to say these days. She looked up when the door opened, starting to stand before catching sight of Simon and freezing. She looked at him hard for a moment, her brows drawing together in disbelief.

“Papa?” she asked. That simple, hopeful question made him want to cry. He could stand there, close enough to see his little girl in detail, without hurting her. He nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak yet. Smiling, he took a step forward. That was all the prompting October seemed to need. In one fluid movement she stood and crossed the room, throwing herself at him. He wrapped his arms around her, laying his face against her top of her head as she buried herself in his shoulder and clung to him. They stood like that, how long he couldn’t say, just clinging to each other, trusting that words would come later.

* * *

 

Toby stood, wrapped in her Papa’s arms at last. She had been missing this for so long that she had almost forgotten what it felt like, except that it was warm and safe and wonderful, and something worth missing and trying to remember. Now that she had it back, she never wanted to lose it again.

Finally she pulled back, looking at Papa with such a wide smile that she felt like her face might split.

“You’re here.” She said, needing to put words to it to fully prove to herself that it was real. “You’re really, finally here!” What did Devin know? Sometimes you didn’t even have to try for your happy ending. Sometimes it just found you.

“Oh October.” Papa said, pulling her in again briefly to kiss the top of her head. “I’m so glad to be able to see you at last.” That- That wasn’t something she wanted to get into right now, not when he was finally back.

“It’s fine, I know your work’s important.” She said, making very sure that hurt didn’t creep into her tone. Of course his work was important, but there had been a time when it hadn’t been more important than her, when he had always come back after his travels. But of course, she’d been a child then, and he’d been the only parent that she had. He hadn’t asked to be thrust into a position of caring for anyone, and given how he and her mother clearly didn’t get along, it was no wonder that he’d gotten out of the tower as soon as he could. It all made perfect sense. That didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt, in a place inside her that she’d spent so much time ignoring that she’d almost forgotten it was there.

* * *

 

Internally, Simon sighed. Of all the things October could have picked up from her mother once Amandine had taken over raising her again, of course his girl had chosen the passive aggressive needling. When he’d told his Lady about the spell Amy had cast, he’d asked that she only give October the broad strokes, not wanting to get in the way of her chance to have a good relationship with her mother. But vagaries aside, she had to at least know that his absence had been for her own well-being.

“Not so important that I didn’t return the moment I was able.” He said lightly, refusing to allow any censure into his voice. There would be time to discuss choices they had made that the other disagreed with later. There would be so much time, now that he could finally come home to her.

“Never mind that right now. Let me look at you.” He said, holding her at arm’s length by her shoulders. She was almost his height now, and thin in a way that Simon worried didn’t indicate vigorous exercise so much as not eating as much as she should. But that seemed impossible. Melly and the other kitchen staff would never stand for such a thing. Her clothes looked as though she’d dressed in the dark; an over-large sweater so brightly patterned that it almost hurt the eyes, and definitely distracted from the fact that one leg of her strangely tight knitted trousers was torn in a way that did not appear to be merely artful.

“I can hardly believe Luna lets you out of family quarters dressed like that. Didn’t she inflict some of her fashion sense upon you when you came to live here?” he asked, smiling at his own joke and hoping October would take the offered opportunity to break the tension that he felt trying to settle between them.

* * *

 

“Live here? I don’t live here.” Toby said, surprise shifting the careful control she had been maintaining in her tone. Did he really know nothing about her life? Toby hadn’t bothered to stay in touch with Lady Evening, knowing that as traditional as she was, the woman would never approve of how Toby lived now. Without her to talk to, Toby hadn’t had any information on Papa’s work or well-being in years, except that she knew it must still be keeping him traveling. Even so, it had never occurred to her that he wouldn’t know what she was doing, at least the broad strokes.

“What? But you don’t still live with your mother, surely?” Papa asked. And wasn’t that interesting? They’d always avoided talking about her mother, when they’d lived together in the tower. Looking back, Toby knew that much of that was down to her, and how distressed she had been by her mother’s initial disappearance. But the fact remained that they hadn’t talked about it, and now he didn’t seem at all surprised that she wasn’t living at the tower anymore. That was something to think about later.

“Of course not, not anymore, I’m not a kid.” Toby said, loading her voice with all of the annoyance she felt at this entire situation. She was almost thirty, almost of age by Fae standard, never mind that she’d been an adult as far as the rest of the world was concerned for more than a decade.

“I know that, and I never said you were.” Papa said. And there came the patient, ultra-rational tone. There had been a time when he knew better. Had he really forgotten that she knew all his little tricks for when he wanted to _handle_ people, knew them because he’d taught them to her? “I was just assuming you would end up in the court at Shadowed Hills, but apparently I was wrong. Are you at the Tea Gardens then? Lily has always been so good with people like you.”

“People like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Toby asked, her annoyance turning into anger. “Is there something wrong with saying ‘changeling’? You never used to have a problem with it before, but then I guess a lot of things can change given enough time.”

* * *

 

October was right, of course. So many things had changed, more than she knew. He wasn’t the person who had braided her hair and held her when she cried, not anymore. That person hadn’t had any blood on his hands, wasn’t near as practiced in skulking in the dark. But it appeared that who had had been wasn’t a person that she needed anymore, so perhaps it didn’t matter as much as he sometimes worried that it did.

“Of course I don’t have any problem saying that you’re a changeling. You should be very proud of what you’ve been able to accomplish, October.” Simon said, smiling softly. He was certainly proud, looking at his beautiful girl, so grown up. Though it was hard to focus on her being beautiful when her face shifted into the disbelieving sneer it now held.

“How would you know anything about what I’ve accomplished? You don’t even know where I live, it’s not like you have been keeping track.” She said, and now the hurt was evident. A part of Simon found this very understandable. He’d been the most stable parent she had, and then he’d been gone. Even if it was with good reason, of course she would expect that he would keep an eye on her. And why hadn’t he?

But another part of his mind rose up, demanding to be heard. What right did she have to assume that he would spend his valuable time keeping track of something to temporary and mercurial as a changeling? That he was coming back to speak to her now was a privilege and a gift, and she would do well to appreciate it.

Even as he thought these things, Simon knew they seemed a bit unfair. He loved October, and she loved him. Knowing that had been one of the few touchstones he had over past ten years, and his mind had always allowed him to have it, as long as he didn’t think about it in too much detail. He needed that, so he had to try.

“Well then why don’t you tell me?” he asked, voice still reasonable. “What have you been up to? Where are you living?” He cocked his head and waited.

* * *

 

He was still using that tone, still _managing_ her! Toby hated it. She’d wanted her Papa back so badly over the years. She never remembered him being like this. But of course she wouldn’t. Back when she’d lived in the tower and among the court, she’d felt privileged and special whenever someone pureblooded deigned to give her notice. She still felt special when they noticed her, but now, when she walked into places with Devin, as a representative of him and of Home, she was forcing them to see her on her own terms. How was she supposed to explain that?

“I live in the mortal world. Well, mostly. Home is a shallowing.” She began to explain.

“Which shallowing?” Papa asked. “Do you mean- what, Home?” This time the capital was clear when he spoke as well. “Why on earth would you run off with those petty criminals? October, really. Surely Sylvester would give you a place here.” And didn’t that just sum it up nicely?

“Oh yes, he’d give it to me. He wouldn’t make me earn it, and even if he did no one would ever believe that I had. I work for what I have at Home, and I can earn a place there, with ‘people like me’. I’m not anyone’s pet.” Toby spat. How could he not understand? He was the one who had shown her that she would have to be ten times better than any pureblood page, just to be taken seriously. He was the one who had taught her about the various implications of people’s social standings and relationship with each other. It was from his lessons that she knew she could never fully belong on the courts of the purebloods, not with the way things were. If she wanted a fair place, she’d have to build it herself, because that wasn’t something that existed for anyone ‘like her’, not here, not yet.

* * *

 

 

A pet?! What sort of nonsense has Amy been filling her head with?

It wasn’t entirely inaccurate, the sneering part of him said. Perhaps it was for the best that October was starting to realize that she would always be beneath them. The sooner she was in her proper place, the happier she would be.

“Of course you aren’t a pet.” Simon said soothingly. “You’ve been earning your place in Sylvester’s court since before I even met you, October. You’ve reached your majority now. Why shouldn’t you claim it?”

Instead of looking soothed, her eyes lit with anger.

“Stop managing me! You think I don’t know what that tone means, when you taught it to me? Or did you just think I’m too stupid to remember?” she asked incredulously.

Oh, was that was this was about?

“Well I wouldn’t have thought you could have forgotten everything I taught you, but seeing you now I suppose it’s really a bit more than I could expect, given what you are.” He said, letting the sneering part of him choose his words without a second thought. When the rest of his mind caught up with what he had said, he froze.

* * *

 

Toby froze. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. She had a right to be angry, and she had always been a bit insecure about her place in things. It was Papa who always encouraged her, always made her feel like anything was there for her to attain, if she just worked hard enough, and learned how to speak with people on their level. It was Papa who had always believed in her.

That couldn’t have been a lie, could it?

“October, I didn’t mean-” he started.

“I think you did.” She said, and now it was her turn to speak in the overly calm tone of someone who already knew how a conversation would go. “I think that the things people say on impulse are always the most honest. Someone taught me that, once. Though maybe they didn’t expect me to remember.” She paused, leaving a long silence, hoping that she was wrong, that he would apologize. But he said nothing, just looked at her sadly. Was she really that much of a disappointment?

“I wasn’t supposed to come until tomorrow. If you could perhaps inform Uncle Sylvester that I will see him then?” She asked, falling into the overly formal forms of speech she’d worked so hard to learn, and then so hard to forget.

* * *

 

“October” Simon said, finally finding his words. He reached a hand out to her, but she stepped back, instead dropping into a formal curtsy. Her form was still perfect, he could tell easily because she wore no skirts. Automatically, he said “When one is wearing trousers it is traditional to bow, regardless of gender.”

October stiffened, drawing herself up from the curtsy.

“I’ll make sure I remember that,” she said curtly. “I wouldn’t wish to embarrass anyone with my limitations.”

With that, she left the room.

A small part of Simon was please at this. Perhaps she was finally learning to take correction, and to accept where her place was in things. If he tried very hard, he could focus on that, instead of the part of him that wanted to cry.

 


	19. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to JuniperQFox and my husband.

_June 14 th, 1982_

In the recent months, Toby had stayed away from Shadowed Hills. For the first few weeks she made excuses when she called to cancel her lunch plans, and always asked to speak to Aunt Luna, who wouldn’t push like Uncle Sylvester did. But in the third week, when Uncle Sylvester answered the phone himself, there was no more getting around it. She told him the truth; that she didn’t want to see Papa, or even think about him, not right now. And maybe the brothers had been talking, maybe he knew what happened, because for once he didn’t push; only told her to take the time she needed and come back when she was ready.

That was part of why she felt like she could come back now. Uncle Sylvester hadn’t tried to tell her that she should ignore it, that she was being silly. He knew that what had happened was important, and that she needed time to deal with it. Which meant that he thought Papa was wrong; he didn’t think she wasn’t as good or as smart because of her blood. Everything came back to blood in Faerie, and while who Toby’s mother was had always seemed to make people regard her blood as a bit more special, it would never be enough to outweigh the mortality.

The last few months in the mortal world had been nice. No one cared about her blood at Home, and a lot of the other kids enjoyed watching her take her anger out on whoever Devin gave her leave to pummel that week. He certainly seemed to be enjoying how full of fire she had been for the first month or so. Toby hadn’t been going to his bed as often in the last year, but in that moment she just wanted someone to tell her that she was amazing and beautiful. Though he was sparing with praise when it came to work or fighting, Devin had always been a giving and vocal lover, and that was exactly what she wanted.

When she wasn’t fighting whoever was unlucky enough to be put in her way, or letting Devin hold her down and make her forget about everything, Toby spent time with Mitch and Stacey. They were doing very well. The more she saw them together, the more she realized how perfectly suited they were to each other. They were both just so _good_ , and they didn’t bother having huge, unattainable dreams like being accepted by the majority of Faerie. All they wanted was to find nice, normal jobs, get married, and have each other and probably a couple of kids. Simple, easy. Perfect.

Being around them had made Toby realize that she wanted some of that, too. Maybe not all of it, and certainly not children yet. But the idea of a real relationship seemed nice. It was funny; she’d always seen Uncle Sylvester and Aunt Luna, and known that they were happy. But the only other changelings that she knew were at Home, and no one there had any interest in playing happy families. Devin made sure of that. Toby was starting to realize that while Home gave a lot to those who lived there, it gave only the things that were in Devin’s best interests. And that maybe her interests no longer aligned with his, entirely.

The door guard at Shadowed Hills had told her that Aunt Luna was waiting on the patio in her private gardens, and Toby knew the way, she had been going there for years. But it seemed the knowe didn’t want her to get there today, because the hallways that should have been right just weren’t leading where they ought to. Toby slowed down, thinking. The last time the knowe had done something like this, she’d pushed on, getting through to the gardens as she’d planned. Upon arriving, she’d found Uncle Sylvester and Aunt Luna enjoying the pleasure of one another’s company. In a fully clothed but vigorous fashion. If the knowe wanted to spare her something like that, she was going to listen, this time.

The next time she came to a turn, she judged that to reach the private gardens she should turn right. She went left. Maybe she could find some back way to the kitchens, and bother Melly for a while. Melly was always good for a chat, especially since Kerry had gone across the country to go to college. Taking a few more turns, Toby walked for several minutes before sighing and coming to a stop. She seemed to be lost. Looking around and seeing that she was alone, she did something that she hadn’t done since she was a child. As she got older, she understood that her flights of fancy were more likely to be ridiculed than ignored, and she got enough of that merely for existing in public, when it came to certain people.

“Alright, I give up.” Toby said, looking at the ceiling and making it clear that she was addressing the knowe. “Where do you want me to go?” She stood waiting. Nothing changed, and she got no sudden flash of inspiration telling her where she should go. Maybe she had been imagining things, after all. Sighing, she threw up her hands. “Fine, be that way.” She said, spinning around to head back the way she had come- and promptly running smack into someone as she took her first step. They both stepped back, and as usual Toby managed to be utterly graceless about it and trip over her feet. She could swear sometimes that being in the Summerlands made her more clumsy than usual.

A pair of hands caught her before she could hit the ground, helping her to right herself.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m such a klutz.” She said, straightening her dress (a concession to how Uncle Sylvester and Aunt Luna styled their court) before looking up. Before her stood a young man who looked to be around her age, not that that meant much in Faerie. He had brown hair cut short and styled so that it was spiked up, and a tan that was at odds with his almost black eyes. His face bore a soft smile.

“No, it’s fine, I should have been looking where I was going. Are you lost too?” he asked. “I swear, this place is a maze. I haven’t seen you around before, are you new here too?” He bit his lip self-consciously and looked down, drawing Toby’s eyes to his hands, which he was clenching and unclenching in a nervous fashion. Hands that were webbed between the fingers.

“I’m not new, I’m just not around all the time anymore. The duke is my uncle though, so I come visit when I can.” She said, enjoying the chance to introduce herself to someone who didn’t assume they knew everything there was to know about her as soon as they saw the blunt points of her ears. The thought brought her hand up to one of them almost unconsciously, and Toby realized that her hair was hanging forward to cover them. Perhaps that explained it. Well, better to get this over with sooner than later. She tucked her hair back, smoothing it down as thought she’d meant to do so all along.

“The knowe can be a little confusing sometimes, but I’m happy to help. Where are you trying to find?” She asked, keeping her voice polite, while internally preparing for him to drop his smile and start treating her like the help.

“That would be wonderful, I appreciate it,” he said, skirting the forbidden ‘thank you’ but otherwise fully maintaining his pleasant courtesy. Now Toby really did return his smile, as she led the way down the corridor. “I’m Connor, by the way.” He said, taking her arm to formally escort her down the hall, like she was just another lady. Toby grinned, and continued to introduce herself.

 

* * *

 

Simon sat on a bench outside of the San Francisco Museum of Art. He hadn’t gone into his Lady’s knowe since his confrontation with October, months before. The proximity of being outside the knowe allowed him to enjoy the calm of being near his Lady without risking an actual conversation. He had spoken in anger and tested her patience often enough to know that it wouldn’t end well, and now that he was able to be in contact with October again there was yet another thing that could be held against him.

And wasn’t that an interesting train of thought? It was difficult to hold it in his mind, and that only made Simon work harder at it. Why would he worry so much about angering her? She was always so wonderful and kind. What threat could she possibly be? He pulled the notebook he had been tracking his trains of thought in from his waistcoat and opened it to the ribbon marker. A bulleted list greeted him.

 

-Opinions about changelings and even mixed bloods change to match hers

-No visible progress in search for August

-Tasks increasingly close to lawbreaking

-Has not been talking to October as promised

-Encouraged acting against Sylvester

-Amy came back when I told her no

 

That last one had been a shock to realize. Before that he had never refused his Lady anything, in all the decades that he had been at her beck and call. When she had told him to move against his brother, he had finally refused, and she had been so angry. She had told him that he would regret it, and he had thought she meant that she would no longer help him in his search for August. It had never occurred to him that she might know how to find her sister, might know how to disturb the peace that he and October had created together. He had no proof, only speculation. But it did not seem near so wild a conclusion to draw as it might have, years ago.

“Simon?” a voice asked, startling him from his reflections. Looking up, he found Dawn standing in front of him. He smiled. It was always nice to see her, no matter how troubled he felt in the moment with regards to her sister.

“Good morning, my lady.” He stood, setting his notebook down before bowing courteously before drawing her down to sit beside him on the bench. “What brings you out walking this morning?” he asked. Dawn tended to be a bit of a homebody, leaving Goldengreen only for large formal social engagements, and staying mostly in her sister’s shadow when she did venture out.

Dawn’s smile was warm and gentle. She took both of Simon’s hands in her own and squeezed, seeming to impart comfort from her very touch.

“I’ve been worried for you, Simon. We haven’t seen you at the knowe in months, and what word I do get is that you are very unhappy indeed. When I last saw you, you almost floated out the door, you were so excited and happy. What on earth has happened?” She seemed so genuinely distressed on his behalf that Simon felt his own worries slip away in his need to comfort her.

“It’s nothing to do with you, Dawn. You’ve always been such a true friend, I apologize that I haven’t been to see you in so long. There has been a great deal weighing on my mind, and I haven’t wished to bother you with such trivialities.” Simon said in reassurance. Though perhaps he should trouble her with it. Who better to know what Evening might or might not be doing? Though they were sisters, Dawn valued honesty very highly, and he didn’t think she would mislead him if he asked directly.

“Nothing that has given you pause for this long could be trivial.” She said, turning her attention to him pointedly as she prepared to listen. Simon took a deep breath.

“I was happy because the geas Amy had laid on me was at an end. I was finally able to speak with my daughter October. But it- things went badly. We argued, and I said some things I shouldn’t have. Things I didn’t mean, or I don’t think that I mean them. They follow a line of thinking much closer to what your sister believes, with regard to changelings.” Now that Simon had begun, he found it easier to continue, and was almost thinking aloud. “It has never been something that we’ve shared an opinion on, but it hasn’t been relevant to the work I’ve done for her, so I don’t believe it’s come up before. But when I think about such things now, it feels as though there are two parts of me warring in the conversation. And I can’t help but wonder where that second opinion is coming from.” As he finished speaking he looked hard at Dawn, wondering if he would be able to spot it if she decided to lie. The question turned out to be irrelevant.

“Oh Simon.” Dawn sighed. “I’m quite sure that your October is exceptional. How could she not be, with you having raised her? But surely you can see that there is nothing to be gained from trying to view all changelings on that level?” Simon looked at her in surprise.

“Whyever not? All I’m saying is that they are people worthy of rights and courtesy. Is that really such an extreme opinion?” He asked, slightly bewildered that Dawn would take such stance. Dawn, who was always so kind to everyone. But even as he said it, he realized that wasn’t really true, was it? She wasn’t even kind to everyone in Goldengreen. Patrick had had to put aside his efforts to free the pixies there when he went to the Undersea, leaving his flock in Simon’s care.  

Simon knew that he and Patrick had an affinity for the small creatures that was considered strange by many of their fellows. But there were miles of difference between not being personal friends with any of them and not caring that you kept them starving in globes, just so you didn’t have to periodically renew the enchantments on witch lights.

“I’m not saying its extreme. I’m only saying that you must see that there are certain natural separations, ordained by Oberon himself.” Dawn said, calmly and patiently. Simon was reminded of how October had lashed out at him for doing the exact same thing; managing her, instead of speaking with her like a person on his level.

“I believe I’ve had quite enough of others telling me what I ‘must see’.” Simon said angrily. “I am quite capable of making decisions for myself!

“Yet see how out of sorts it makes you when you try!” Dawn said, her voice edging towards distress. Simon’s first impulse continued to be wanting to comfort her, to do whatever was needed to make things alright again for her. He thought of his scornful words to October, and used the anger to push past this desire.

“Perhaps if it were a more common state of affairs I wouldn’t be so ‘out of sorts’.” Simon retorted. “Perhaps if my choices and opinions were always my own, I wouldn’t have to parse everything I’ve done to try and find the places where they weren’t. Because they haven’t been, Dawn, have they? Not for a long time.”

Dawn shook her head sadly. “You knew what you asked of my sister. And you did ask for it, Simon, even if you’ve chosen to forget now. You asked for her help, and you knew it came with a price.”

“I asked to have my daughter back. Losing the other one was never part of the price!” Simon all but shouted, moving to stand in his ire. Dawn tightened her grip on his hands, still shaking her head.

“Why must you make things so difficult, Simon? Why must you always be like this?” She asked, as though to a child.

“Always? What on earth are you talking about?” Simon asked in bewilderment.

“Oh Simon, my dear. Do you truly believe this is the first time we’ve had this conversation?” Dawn asked, so lightly and reasonably that it took him a moment to grasp the implication of her words. He tried harder to pull away from her hold, which had hardened like steel, and failed. Dawn clicked her tongue in censure. “None of that. Just close your eyes and listen to me for a moment. You’ll be so much happier, I promise.”

The world went black.


	20. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to JuniperQFox and my husband.
> 
> This update is early, but it's my birthday, and my present to you all (hobbit style) is a chapter where nice things happen to everyone. Really this time, I promise. Like I actually made Simon have a nice time, and it was HARD.

_May 3 rd, 1985_

 Toby didn’t think she had ever smiled this much in her life, and there was no reason to think she would be stopping any time soon. People liked to say that courthouse weddings couldn’t possibly be as meaningful or romantic as having them in some sort of formal setting, but that really seemed to depend on the people. Stacey was radiant. Toby hadn’t known it was possible for someone to glow like that without magical aid, but her friend was managing it. She had done her own hair and makeup, since she knew where her friends’ strengths lay, and more importantly where they didn’t, but all four of them had gotten together to spin the illusions to turn the simple white shift dress Stacey wore into a wedding gown fit for a princess.

Mitch hadn’t stopped staring at his bride since she had stepped around the corner of the courthouse hallway, and Evan continuously needed to stop him from tripping over benches and unfortunately placed potted palms. He looked gobsmacked, and like he felt like the luckiest man alive.

It was a small group; just Toby, Julie, Kerry and Evan, who was Mitch’s best friend from Home. The four engaged in a furious rock-paper-scissors tournament to determine which two would get to sign as witnesses on the marriage license. Kerry and Evan won, which made Kerry gleefully surprised, and Evan somewhat smug. One aspect of his fae ancestry was a base level of telepathic ability, and he had probably been cheating a bit, but Toby was too happy to care.

Once the paperwork was signed they all left the courthouse, with Mitch making vague rumblings of finding an Italian place or something. Oh, that poor man. If he didn’t know his wife’s friends better than that by this point, he was going to be in for a shock or two down the line.

For once, everything went to plan. Kerry ‘remembered’ that she had left something she absolutely couldn’t live without in her little loft apartment. She insisted they all come up with her and wait in the hallway. Julie hung back, and Toby kept up a stream of chatter so that Mitch and Stacey wouldn’t notice their feline friend slipping away into the shadows. When they got upstairs, the apartment door opened from the inside. Julie stood there grinning, a cake held in her hands. When everyone made their way inside, Mitch and Stacey stopped. The place was decorated with mountains of crepe paper, and a huge banner that read ‘Happy Wedding, Mitch and Stacey!’ hung across one wall.

“You guys!” Stacey cried, eyes brimming with tears. “You guys!” She pulled her friends into a hug, and they stood in a giant puddle of tears and joy until Kerry pulled back and walked over to the kitchen area.

“I’ll get the hot things started,” she said, moving to take trays from the fridge while the oven preheated.

“What?” Mitch asked. “How much food do you guys have?” Kerry and Toby turned to him with matching looks of mock affront.

“Do you really think that we could grow up in Shadowed Hills-” Toby began.

“In the _kitchens_ of Shadowed Hills.” Kerry interjected.

“And not know that the key to throwing a party is to have more food than everyone could eat in two lifetimes?” Toby finished, smiling as she went to take plastic wrap off of plates of deviled eggs and finger sandwiches. It wasn’t normally her style, but with Kerry’s direction she apparently could help make food without setting anything on fire.

“Mom made the cake, so you don’t have to worry about being poisoned” Kerry added. The trio had tried to do that themselves as well, at first, but it was a total train wreck, and when they called Melly to ask for advice, she had informed them that no one would be baking Stacey’s wedding cake but her.

It was only two tiers, since it wasn’t a very big wedding party, but it had the most amazing thick, fluffy white buttercream frosting, and the moist, rich chocolate cake was layered with raspberry preserves. It was topped with a perfect little sugar replica of Mitch and Stacey, which captured them in the way only magically formed culinary arts could.

Kerry put the little quiches and pigs in a blanket in the oven, and poured everyone champagne. The group toasted their friends, their love, and their future together. The evening was wonderful, full of laughter, joy, and everything that a wedding day should have.

 

* * *

 

Simon stared out over the water, looking at the reflection of the full moon in San Francisco Bay. The night was warm and pleasant, the air heavy and sweet with the flowers blossoming on all the trees. A hand brushed his arm, and he turned. Oleander stood there, holding a set of champagne flutes. He smiled, taking one for himself and sliding his free arm around her waist.

Things had been going so well of late. His Lady had begun sending Oleander with him on the various assignments she set, rather than merely having her appear occasionally with new instructions and fade into the mist as quickly as she arrived. At first, Simon had resented this, had felt as though after all his good and loyal service he was being assigned a keeper. But he soon came to realize that this was simply another instance of his Lady knowing him better than he knew himself.

Until he had Oleander with him, Simon had not realized how much he had missed having a constant companion. She would never be Amy, for how can anyone replace your first love? But to convince oneself that a first love is the only love you will ever have is a folly, and had given Simon so many years misspent in grief.

He was no longer the young man who had fallen for Amy all those centuries ago. Her continued rejection no longer surprised him, indeed, it no longer even stung to remember. She too was a different person now, and would of course have different desires. She was no longer that partner he needed, either. Oleander knew who he was, and both understood and appreciated it. He enjoyed planning for the tasks they were set so much more with her around, and the plans, when executed, had so much more flair. She was like a dark muse, inspiring him to greater heights one moment and felling their adversaries the next. A wink and a smile, distracting from deft hands that passed over the glass of a target. She was poetry in motion.

And she was all his. She nestled against his side, taking in the moonlit night with him. She was normally so quick to throw up walls against outsiders, likely to protect herself from the scorn she must have faced on account of her mixed blood. But surely skill counted for more than the actions of one’s misguided parents, and it could not be denied that in all the Westlands there was none more skilled than she in her art. A pity really, that it could never truly be acknowledged as such. But his Lady would know the truth, and so would he, and perhaps that would be enough. 

“A toast, my love,” he said, raising his glass. She lifted her own, looking up at him expectantly. “To our success,” he said, tipping his glass towards her. “And to our future,” he added, allowing the passion he felt to light in his eyes. She smiled, and he marveled at how fortunate he was to witness this softness in her that so few got to see. They drank slowly, enjoying the crisp sweetness of the champagne and the warmth of the night. When they finished, Simon set his empty glass on the railing, before plucking hers from her hand and placing it with the other. She looked at him questioningly.

“Would my lady care to dance?” he asked, stepping back from her and bowing slightly. She laughed, high and clear, before taking his hand and dropping into a small curtsy.

“With you, my love? Always and forever, even as the world burns around us.” Oleander said, voice husky with passion.

“Perhaps leave the fires until we’re alone, mm?” Simon said with a smile, leading her out onto the dance floor, a careless wave of a hand thrown over his shoulder to vanish their glasses in a waft of smoke and oranges.


	21. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to JuniperQFox and my husband. 
> 
> The end is in sight! I've got one more chapter to write, the rest are out with the betas.

_August 14 th, 1987 _

Toby rushed through the halls of Shadowed Hills, spending less time worrying about where she was going than was probably advisable. The knowe would make sure she got there. The knowe did not, however, know to make allowances for things like untied shoes. She realized this abruptly as she whipped around a corner and went sprawling. From above her, Toby heard a sharp, pointed cough; ever the courtier’s preferred method of getting someone’s attention without actually having to acknowledge them out loud. Toby looked up and found the new envoy from the Undersea. Of course it would be her.

There was a saying that you couldn’t really lose things you hadn’t had in the first place, but what little Toby had had with Connor had been nice enough that she did miss it. Things with Devin had always been fiery and passionate, and certainly good; he was far too prideful to allow himself to be bad at something as simple as sex. But she was always trying to keep up, always trying to please him and garner his approval. With Connor, neither of them was trying to prove anything, and so they were both able to relax and have fun. It was why they’d never felt the need to rush into taking things to the next level, content to kiss in the rose gardens (and if his hand occasionally ended up inside her blouse, well, that was really nobody’s business, was it?).

Now she almost wished they had moved faster. She still wondered what kind of a lover he would be, and regretted that she wouldn’t be able to find out. When the larger delegation had come from the Undersea to the Queen’s court to install their new envoy, the Seline woman had caught on to what was happening at once. And why shouldn’t she? They had never had reason to be circumspect. The staff at Shadowed Hills found them cute, and even Uncle Sylvester seemed happy that she was seeing someone of his court, if only because it meant she came around more often.

But the new envoy seemed to be of the opinion that she was a disgrace for even trying, that she was some sort of social climbing whore. Never mind that between being Amandine’s daughter and Sylvester’s niece, she was more politically connected in the Mists than Connor by a long shot. She had never really chosen to do anything with these connections, aside from acting as Devin’s date at whatever gatherings he wanted, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t. She was young still, even for a changeling.

Even so, it wasn’t the political implications that had made her interested in Connor in the first place, and she was quite sure he hadn’t been interested in her as the Duke’s niece.

“Well Miss Daye,” the woman said, add a level of distaste to Toby’s last name that was frankly unnecessary. Lots of purebloods had last names, it wasn’t an exclusively mortal thing. “Come to see your replacement, before you slide entirely into irrelevance?” Toby looked at her in disbelief, before picking herself up from the floor and drawing on her full height to stare the woman down.

“I am here, my lady, to meet my new cousin. A child is all my aunt and uncle have ever wanted, and I couldn’t be happier for them. Everyone who actually knows anything understands that, so maybe you should stop embarrassing us both with your blatant display of ignorance.” Toby filled her tone with all the courtly scorn she could muster, and stared at the woman for a few beats before pushing past her and continuing down the hall.

She made it around the next corner before a slow, sharp applause started from a side hallway. She turned, ready to tell off whoever was delaying her yet again, and stopped. Papa stepped out into the main passage. The look of scorn he had given her at the end of their last meeting had been so thoroughly seared into her mind that it took her a moment to place the expression that was on his face now. It was pride. A part of her that she thought was long buried warmed at that expression.

“Never let it be said that your teaching didn’t leave an impression.” Toby said, smiling ruefully. She wanted to be able to just be happy to see him, for things to go back to being simple. But so much had happened, both between them and just to her as a person. She still wanted his approval, and she probably always would, the same way she wanted her mother’s. But she didn’t crave it like she had as a child, didn’t need it to feel valuable. She was her own person, proud of who and what she was, and if Papa couldn’t understand that it was his problem, not hers.

“One would hope, my dear,” Papa said, his own smile less guarded than her own. “I suppose Lady Irene is still being snide about the Selkie boy?” How had he heard about that? He hadn’t bothered to hear anything about her life for years, and suddenly he was caught up on all the most embarrassing parts? That was just unfair. But it meant he was asking about her when he visited Shadowed Hills. It meant he was trying, so maybe she should, too.

“She is, but she’d find something else to be snide about if it wasn’t that. She’s only happy when she feels like she’s better than someone.” Toby leaned forward, a bit conspiratorially. “It’s why she stays away from the Queen’s court, even though that’s where she’s supposed to be attached. The Queen thinks all land fae are above the Undersea, and she’s not shy about saying so. There’s a reason Connor sticks to Shadowed Hills.” It felt good, gossiping about politics. Just like old times.

“I’d say there’s more than one reason Mister O’Dell stays close.” Papa said, raising an eyebrow.

“There’s nothing there.” Toby said tersely. “There couldn’t ever have been. Weren’t you telling me I should remember my place?” The fun of a moment before was gone in a snap. He might be trying, but it didn’t mean she was just going to forget what had happened. Papa sighed.

“October- I’m sorry. I didn’t think before I spoke, and you of all people know how much of a mistake that is. I never wanted to hurt you.” He looked so earnest. But he wasn’t saying that he hadn’t meant what he said. Only that he shouldn’t have said it aloud.

“I believe you.” Toby said, quietly. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. But you did, and I need time to work through that. Can you give me time?” They could fix things, they had to be able to, with so much between them. But it was going to take work, and if Papa didn’t know that, Toby wasn’t sure she was ready to start working on forgiving him.

“Of course, October,” he said, reaching a hand forward to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear. “I’m only in town for a few days, but if I can give you an address, will you write to me?” he asked.

That sounded perfect. Writing was easier, you couldn’t be impulsive and petty on notepaper.

“Of course I’ll write.” Toby said, smiling more sincerely now.

“Good. Now run along and meet your cousin, before you bounce off another wall.” Papa said, smiling back and waving a hand to bring her clothes back to order. That too felt just like it had growing up, except- Toby frowned as she turned to go. Since when had Papa’s magic smelled of oranges?

* * *

 

Simon watched October go. She wasn’t quite skipping down the hall, she was a bit too old for that now, but she was definitely moving as quickly as she could without running. She seemed genuinely excited to meet her baby cousin. That was very good, of course, but it was also interesting. While he wouldn’t have phrased it as Lady Irene had, Simon had been quite sure, as more and more decades went by without his brother producing an heir, that Sylvester meant to name October to the position. Once her youthful wildness had settled he could have begun training her more formally, but he had been doing it for years, really. October had always had more patience for minutiae than Sylvester had; it would be a good fit.

The fact that Sylvester would have to fight the Queen of the Mists to make the appointment stick seemed irrelevant. She wouldn’t like it, but she liked few things to do with Shadowed Hills, and it had always been an odd little holding, between Luna’s roses and Sylvester’s adoption of strays. A changeling heir would be just one more thing on a long list of ways the duchy made the queen uncomfortable, and it wasn’t as thought Sylvester would be stepping aside any time soon.

But it seemed that something which was readily apparent to many of the purebloods at court had never even occurred to October. And perhaps that was for the best. It meant that she was learning, and not aspiring to things above herself. It would make her so much happier, in the long term. It also enabled her to be truly happy for her aunt and uncle now, and that she seemed to be.

Simon smiled. He had just come from visiting his brother and sister-in-law, and their beautiful, perfect new daughter. She’d slept the whole time he was there, wrapped in a warm blanket so that only her head was visible, with its fine coating of Torquill red hair. There would never be any doubt who Sylvester’s little girl belonged to, and it made Simon feel a twinge of jealousy.

Simon loved August with all his heart, but in some ways she had never truly been his. Amy had shaped her from the womb, and guided her from the moment she was born. He loved both of them, and he would never stop working to bring his family back together. But in this instance, he couldn’t help wanting what his brother had; a daughter who would always be seen as his. No one would be able to look at little Rayseline without seeing that she was a Torquill. Everything she did would be something that would be easily and instantly credited to their family, something Sylvester could be proud of. And with a father like that, she would doubtless be a hero.

Though perhaps that was a bit too much pressure to place on a newborn. Simon headed back down the hall, in the direction October had gone. Nothing was really so critical that he had to leave just yet, not when he had finally started to patch things up with October. The fact that she finally seemed to have accepted her rightful place in the world was such a weight off his chest. It was so difficult, loving someone when you knew that they were doing things that only hurt themselves.

Nodding to Sir Ettiene, Simon went back into his brother’s family chambers, staying in the shadows of the front hall so that he wouldn’t disturb the tableau he found there. Luna still lay on the settee she had been on when Simon was there a few minutes before. She looked exhausted but radiantly happy, and Sylvester now sat beside her, an arm around her shoulders. They were both looking up at October, who stood swaying lightly as she held little Rayseline and looked at her adoringly.

The baby started to fuss, and October moved the girl up to lay against her shoulder.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay sweetie, you’re okay, I’ve got you.” She said softly. Rayseline settled in her arms with a tiny sigh. “That’s right sweetie. I’ve got you, and I’m always going to look after you.” October leaned her face down to nuzzle the girl’s soft red hair.

Simon smiled. Yes, perhaps things were finally setting themselves right.


	22. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to JuniperQFox and my husband.
> 
> Happy Hanukkah! May your season be filled with love, light, and hope.

_July 4 th, 1990_

“So did you find that kid?” Cliff asked, not turning from the small travel grill where he was making hot dogs. Toby smiled. They had only been together for about six months, and already things had this relaxed, domestic cadence that she had never achieved with any of her past lovers. Cliff managed to simultaneously make her life feel normal, while also making her feel like the most important person in the world. When she had been with Devin, she felt rebellious and powerful. With Connor she was beautiful and life was a grand adventure. But none of those feelings were ways you could be all the time, without things getting exhausting.

With Cliff, Toby felt cherished, and that was a feeling she was quickly getting used to. She also felt supported, especially at times like this when he took an interest in her work even though it didn’t directly affect him.

“Yes, I found him,” she said, plucking a dandelion from the grass beside their picnic blanket and twirling it between her fingers. “He’s back with his parents, though he’s just going to run off again if they don’t start listening to him sometimes.” That she could certainly empathize with, and if the kid had been a bit older she might not had brought him home at all. But ten was too young to be on the streets, especially for a mortal.

That part of her business was new. She had been solving problems and finding items and information for Devin for years now, and she was starting to become known for it separately from him. She’d mentioned this to Papa in one of her letters, and not three weeks later Lady Evening was inviting her for tea, talking about ways to ease mortal paperwork systems, and how many doors might open for Toby if she was officially licensed.

A few years ago Toby would have balked at anything suggested by a pureblood, especially anything that smacked of being turned into some sort of useful tool for the nobility. Instead, she politely accepted Lady Evening’s help, and was glad she had. The woman might treat Toby like a pet sometimes, but she was currently a favored pet, which meant that Evening was enjoying showing off what she had helped Toby to achieve, and was doing so by sending business her way. The PI license also meant that she could list herself publicly as doing this kind of work, and she had attracted a few mortal clients as well.

That had worried her at first, because even when the task was as simple as wanting pictures of a cheating spouse, how would she explain the don’t-look-here she used to get the photos without being seen? But what Toby quickly learned was that, much like her Fae clients had no interest in how she had applied logic to a situation to find their missing whatever, mortal clients assumed she simply had ways of doing things. No one asked questions, they just wanted the job done. It was like working for Devin, except she was the only one who got a cut, and she was less likely to bruise her knuckles.

Devin had been hard to deal with at first. He hadn’t been happy about her getting a PI license, and he’d been livid that she hadn’t talked to him first. They yelled at each other for almost an hour before he gave her a black eye and told her not to come back until she was ready to fall in line. That was nearly seven months ago, and she hadn’t been back. She had come to him in the first place because she was too stubborn to give in to someone telling her how to live her life, did he really think she would act differently because it was him and not her mother trying to control her?

Toby knew she could go to Shadowed Hills, but she was so close to setting up a life for herself. She couldn’t fall back on her family now, not when she’d worked so hard to make those relationships be on her terms. She stayed with Kerry a bit, then with Mitch and Stacy, babysitting her beautiful little niece Cassie and just trying to figure her life out.

That was when she had met Cliff. He hadn’t cared that she was scruffy and not-quite homeless. He liked her, and he wasn’t shy about it. As Toby went out with him, she adjusted more to living on the day side of the mortal world. Coffee had become her life’s blood, enabling her to stay awake for beautiful afternoon picnics like this. Even if she was tired a lot, it was worth it. Cliff was worth it.

“So the jobs seem to be going well?” Cliff asked, still focused on his grilling. Toby realized he was nervous about something. Probably had been the entire time. Some detective she was, to miss something like that. She turned her full attention to him.

“Yeah, things are great. And for you too, right? Didn’t you say you just got that promotion?” Maybe something had happened and it had fallen through? Toby hoped not, he had been so excited. Cliff worked in a medical research facility, making sure that everything was sterilized and that all the safety protocols were followed. It sounded pretty boring, but Cliff was adamant that people like him were the one thing standing in the way of a zombie apocalypse.

“Yeah, yeah I did.” Cliff said, sounding even more uncertain. Toby froze. This was it, wasn’t it? He had a good, stable job, and he wanted someone who had the same things, who wasn’t running around taking pictures of other people’s indiscretions and couch surfing with her friends. She had always known that he was too good for her, but it still hurt to know that he’d finally realized it too.

“I- are you breaking up with me?” Toby asked, deciding that ripping off the band-aid was the best way to go about this. Already she was running through things in her mind; which BART line to take from the park, since he had driven them there. Where she could stay for tonight, since she’d intended to sleep at his place. Whether or not she had clothes and things that she’d left at Cliff’s place-

“What? No!” Cliff said, turning from his grill at last to look at her, wide eyed. “Why would- no, Toby!” He took a deep breath, grabbing her hands in his and looking into her eyes. “My lease with the guys is up next month, and I thought maybe, since we’ve both got more money coming in, we could get a place together?” He seemed so nakedly hopeful, and in that moment Toby realized that she loved him. Not just how he made her feel, or the time they spent together, but him. The whole entity that was Clifford Marks, this dorky, awkward man who liked spending time with her enough to want to do it every day.

She wasn’t ready to say it, not quite yet. But she had a feeling that when she did, he would respond in kind.

“I’d like that.” Toby said, a soft smile lighting her face. Cliff looked so relieved. He’d really been worried that she would say no, Toby marveled. He’d worried about it, and it had upset him. He wanted her to say yes, wanted her in his life. She leaned forward and kissed him briefly before pulling back to make sure he could see the sincerity in her eyes. “I’d like that a lot. We can get a paper tomorrow, start looking for places, yeah?” Cliff’s face broke into a wide grin as he nodded. “Great. Now finish the hot dogs, and let’s find a spot to check out the fireworks.”

* * *

 

Simon sat on a cliff-side bench outside the San Francisco Art Museum, watching the fireworks light up the sky. Somewhere out there, he was sure that October was doing the same, and he could allow himself to imagine that wherever August might be, so was she.

It was so much simpler, Simon had discovered, to think of the two parts of his life as separate. The work he did for his Lady continued to take darker and darker turns, but he chose not to think about it as much as possible. That work was only part of him, and completing his tasks enabled him to maintain the other, much more important part of him.

He could continue to enjoy his relationship with Oleander, who was perhaps the only one who appreciated the levels of intricacy that went into his plans. He had been able to remove all the supporting leadership of one of the eastern kingdoms, and only one of them had fallen to Oleander’s machinations. Of course another had fallen to Simon’s knife, but all the others had been taken down with words alone. That was true art, spreading gossip in such a way that your target’s friends would wield the knife for you, or even so the target would turn it on themselves.

Writing to October had been an excellent choice. Their relationship truly seemed to be improving. He was always careful not to talk about her status as a changeling, and it seemed to be working out. He’d been able to ask his Lady to help her down a path of October’s own choosing, and once she had been given that path, October seemed to have distanced herself entirely from those tactless criminals she had been running with all these years. She knew that he had helped, and rather than being offended, she thanked him, as much as the limits of Faerie allowed.

Things with his brother were far more complicated. Sylvester was much more aware of broader Westlands news and politics than October. He had started hearing rumblings, implications that Simon was involved in unsavory things. Nothing could be proven, Simon was never that sloppy. But Sylvester had never been a creature of tact. He asked Simon outright whether or not he was involved in such things.

Of course Simon lied, and at first Sylvester had believed him; simple, trusting man that he was. But as time wore on, and especially as Sylvester noticed the changing tint of his brother’s magic, he started to question more and more, and it was becoming clear that he no longer believed Simon’s denials. Sylvester had started finding reasons to meet Simon outside of the knowe when his brother was in town. He hadn’t gone so far as to bar Simon entry; that would be far too political a statement to make when he had no proof. But it was clear that his brother no longer wanted Simon to be around his family.

That hurt. Simon would never hurt Luna or Raysel, surely Sylvester would know that? Whenever topics had even approached such a thing, Simon had redirected his employer’s interests. It was always done to her benefit, and though he was of course subtle about it, he couldn’t imagine that she didn’t know. She seemed to have accepted it without comment, because she hadn’t suggested such a thing for more than a decade now. Simon was a man of many contradictions, and this was one of them. He would do anything for his Lady, even to the point of breaking Oberon’s law. But he was willing to do so because he had built an entire second self around his family, and that meant his family was off limits.

 Between his distracted introspection and the fireworks, Simon almost missed the person sitting themselves beside him. Turning, he found Dawn settling her skirts and then looking up at the bursts of color lighting the sky. Simon waited a few moments in silence, before coughing pointedly. Dawn looked at him, almost seeming surprised to see him there. She looked far more distracted and frazzled than he had ever seen her.

“Oh, Simon. I mean, that is, of course.” Dawn stuttered, hands twitching until they found a bit of loose embroidery on her skirt, which she started to worry with her fingertips. Again, Simon waited, this time determined to let Dawn be the first to speak. She had something she needed to say, and the more she fidgeted and avoided speaking, the more Simon became convinced that whatever it was she so desperately needed to get off her chest was something horrible.

“Simon,” Dawn paused, before taking a deep breath and visibly drawing in her strength. “Simon, what sort of person is my sister, in your experience?”

Simon blinked, stunned into silence. Whatever he had been expecting, this was not it. Dawn was obviously very close to her sister, and he didn’t want to say something that might damage that relationship. But being alone around Dawn was a strange experience, and had been for years. There was no reason for her to unsettle him the way she did, but that didn’t stop it happening. She had never shown him anything but kindness, and yet there was something about her that made him feel small and hunted. But of course that was irrational, and she was asking for his help.

“You are a very intelligent woman, Dawn.” Simon said in lieu of answering. She had been at her sister’s side for years. There was no way she could be that ignorant of the type of person his Lady was.

“I’m not asking for compliments, Simon. I’m asking for an answer to my question.” Of course. Nothing could ever be that easy, could it?

“And it is your own choice to interpret what I said as a compliment, not a condemnation.” Simon retorted, finding he had little patience for whatever game she wanted to play. “You have stood at her side for years. You know, perhaps better than anyone, exactly the sort of person E- _my employer_ is.”

Dawn reached forward to grasp his hands. The touch sent a chill through him, making Simon’s skin crawl.

“She’s scaring me, Simon.” Dawn said, her voice filled with quiet desperation. But he had been desperate once, too. There was no help for anyone, once they were caught in his Lady’s web. _Dawn helped make sure of that_ , a distant memory said, one he couldn't quite place. He pulled his hands from her grasp, not caring about his cruelty.

“Good. Perhaps you should be scared.” He said, standing fluidly and striding away, leaving Dawn alone on the bluff.


	23. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to JuniperQFox and my husband.
> 
> So close guys!

_September 6 th, 1992_

Toby sat cross-legged on the dry, scraggly grass of the apartment complex’s small front lawn. Raysel had co-opted the entire blanket that Toby had laid out for herself and Gilly, and she was now smiling at Gilly and coaxing her into rolling over. Gilly wasn’t always good with new people, but she was thrilled with Raysel, clapping and cooing and reaching for dangling locks of fox-red hair. They were adorable together, and Toby hoped she and Sylvester would be able to make a habit of these play dates.

They wouldn’t even have to schedule them around Cliff’s work, really. He knew that she had a rich uncle who lived in the suburbs. As long as anything strange Raysel said could be dismissed as childish fantasy, there was no danger in having them around for dinner.  

A shadow fell over Toby and she looked up. Sylvester was back from the Starbucks on the corner. He passed Toby’s coffee down to her before sitting beside her with his own. Toby’s brain skipped a moment. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen Sylvester sitting on the ground, and the action seemed so incongruent to how he normally conducted himself. But he looked so relaxed leaning against the trunk of the yard’s one small tree that she couldn’t help but smile. They watched their children play in companionable silence.

Raysel began to gather rocks from the edges of the yard, stacking them on top of each other in little towers. Sylvester cautioned her to build them far enough away from Gilly that she wouldn’t be hurt if they fell, and Raysel complied, laughing all the while. Gilly tracked her movements and gurgled in approval.

Settling back into his patch of grass, Sylvester turned towards Toby. Now the silence felt heavy, as though something difficult was waiting to be said.

“Has Simon been by to see Gilly yet?” Sylvester asked. And oh, the layers to that question.

“Not yet, no.” Why would he? She hadn’t told him about her daughter at all. Toby had wrestled with it through the months of her pregnancy, but kept coming up with reasons not to mention it. Things were finally starting to get better between them, even if writing her letters had begun to feel more and more like walking on eggshells. Papa had always wanted her to take her place in Faerie, not find yet more reasons to cling to the mortal world. Because they communicated exclusively through letters, it was so easy to avoid things like her growing belly. If she was honest with herself, Papa had been somewhat volatile, even in letters, and the idea of bringing up something that he was so likely to react poorly to made Toby a bit afraid.

“Perhaps that’s for the best, don’t you think?” Sylvester said carefully, a statement framed as a question. That was a surprise. Toby had expected Sylvester to encourage her to find more occasions to bring her two families closer together. That was the whole reason behind today’s little play-date.

“Why would you say that?” Toby asked. She had her own reasons for holding off on telling Papa, but it sounded like Sylvester had others, and she wanted to know what they were without influencing his opinion.

“It’s just- I know you’ve been avoiding most of the court gossip lately, October, but people have been saying things. If I’m honest, they’ve been saying them for years now, but I haven’t wanted to admit they were credible.” Sylvester sounded genuinely concerned, and that was enough to make Toby worry. When she’d asked her question, she expected the answer to be personal. These were family problems. That Sylvester was bringing politics into it…

“You think there’s something wrong with him, don’t you?” Toby asked quietly. She had been worrying about this in the back of her mind ever since that last time she’d seen Papa in person. His magic had smelled wrong, like smoke still, but also like rotten oranges. It changed the nature of the smoke scent; it was no longer warm and comforting. The smoke and cider used to remind Toby of long winter days spent curled up by the fire with a hot drink. It had reminded her of home. Now, when paired with the oranges, the smoke only smelled of decay and destruction.

“I think he’s changed.” Sylvester agreed. “He’s been changing for years, but I thought when he came home to raise you that he was finally coming back to himself. Now- Now I’m not so sure. I know you are still in contact with him, and I think that’s wonderful. If anyone can help him it’s you. But be careful, Toby. Please” He rarely used her nickname, just as she rarely called him by his name instead of ‘uncle’ in anything but her head. If he was making a point of using it now, it was because this was that important.

“Of course.” She agreed easily. If it had been only about her, Toby might have protested. But nothing was just about her anymore. Gillian was the most important person in her world, and everything she did now was to make Gilly’s world better and safer. She wanted to believe that having the man who had raised her, who had given her so many of the skills she now used to make her way in the world, would be a positive force in Gilly’s life. But she was unsure, in a way she was never unsure about Sylvester or Luna. In a way she never would have been unsure about Papa, years ago.

“I’ll be careful,” she promised Sylvester, eyes focused on their daughters, playing happily in the sunlight, oblivious to the worries of their parents.

* * *

 

> _Papa,_
> 
> _I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to write this letter. I suppose it’s that your approval has always been so important to me, and so I never want to tell you anything that might lower your opinion of me. Cliff and I have gotten quite serious, and we are getting married next summer. I’d love if you could be there. But that isn’t actually the thing I’ve been avoiding telling you._
> 
> _I have a daughter, Papa. She’s almost three months old now. Her name is Gillian, and she’s beautiful and perfect. She’s only a quarter-blood, so she likely won’t ever even have to make the Choice. And I know it’s yet another attachment to the mortal world, and that you’d really prefer I shed those. But I do hope you can find a way to be happy for me. I’d love for you to come see us, when you can. Uncle Sylvester seems to think you’ve gotten yourself into come kind of trouble. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know. You always said I had a unique way of looking at things, maybe we can solve whatever problem it is you’re having together._
> 
> _Hope to see you soon,_
> 
> _October_
> 
>  

Simon read the letter through a second time before carefully folding it and laying it on the table in front of him. He slid the second item the envelope had contained into his hand. It was a Polaroid photograph of October holding a baby. The photo wasn’t close up enough to see details of the child, beyond her dark hair. What could be seen was the look of steady adoration and wonder on October’s face. Simon tried to recall if he had ever seen her looking that happy. He didn’t think he had.

How one earth could she be content with such mediocrity? How could she fail so thoroughly to appreciate everything that he had done for her, everything that he had tried to shape her into when he was in more of a position to have influence on her life? She had fought so hard against what her mother wanted for her as a child, fought to keep Faerie in her blood, and in her life. Why would she give that up now? She said her daughter wouldn’t have to make the Choice. That meant an entire lifetime wasted in the mortal world.

And yet she still thought she was better than him, somehow. Thought that she could find solutions where he found none. This was clearly his brother’s influence, October had said as much in her letter. Decades Simon had spent his time and energy protecting Sylvester and his family, even when it meant the possibility of alienating the one person who still seemed to care enough to try and bring August back to him. None of it mattered to them, obviously.

Sylvester still saw him as inferior, so hopeless that he needed a changeling to solve his problems. Not only that, but his brother seemed to seek to take Simon’s place in October’s affections, and as the primary holder of her loyalty. Now, when she had grown into her usefulness and could bring her skills to the benefit of his knowe. What had he cared before, when October had been alone, needing a guide and parent? It was Simon who had been there for her then, though she seemed to have forgotten all of that, the way she spoke and acted now. Simon glanced at the photo again, and felt rage boil up within him. He threw the picture onto the ground, and took a few breaths to calm his anger.

He reached down and opened the second letter he had received today. Simply seeing his Lady’s handwriting went further to calming him than any amount of deep breathing or tea ever would.

> _My Dear,_
> 
> _I applaud you for your most recent successes. You continue to advance my interests with a care and attention to detail I have scarcely found elsewhere. Most recently you have accommodated for protecting me in aspects that had escaped my own planning. It is because of this combination of subtlety and loyalty that I would ask of you this next service._
> 
> _Word has reached me that my dearest sister is questioning my actions and the reasoning behind them. She lacks your subtlety, and is asking her questions in such a way that I become worried others who do not look so kindly on my interests will become aware of things. Matters are at a delicate stage, and I cannot afford such distractions. Please come speak to her, and discover how far she had gone in her bid to move against me._
> 
> _Any actions you may wish to take to protect my interests in this matter are permissible, I trust your judgement in all matters._
> 
> _~Your Most Affectionate Lady_

Well wasn’t that interesting? Apparently Dawn had not stopped her questioning at her conversation with Simon, those years ago. He hadn’t spoken to her in private since then, but he had assumed that she had taken his rebuke to heart, both in staying away from him as she had, but also in not asking questions to which she already knew the answers. Perhaps she had for a time, but now she was back at it, and in a way his Lady did not appreciate at all.

She made it sound like a trifling bother, but she also gave Simon leave to handle things as he saw fit, which meant she believed the matter might have escalated to the point where Dawn needed to be removed, lest her larger plans be jeopardized. It had been some time since Simon’s work had allowed him to visit the Mists. How things must have fallen into disarray since then, for his Lady to not have noticed such treachery until it had escalated to this point.

Perhaps it was just as well he would be returning to the Mists now. Simon had heard rumors of the growing instability of the Queen’s knowe. The search for a new place for her to hold court would surely bring about all sorts of interesting opportunities.

If his brother and October were content to build their lives around foolish sentiment, and bar him from them, what should it matter to him? He was building something stronger, better, and more powerful than they ever could. Simon stood, packing his few scattered possessions from their places around the motel room and readying himself for the coming journey.

As he turned to survey the room one last time, his eyes were drawn to a patch of color on the floor. Almost against his will, he bent to pick up the discarded photograph. October smiled up at him so sunnily that he couldn’t bring himself to leave it. Sliding it into his vest pocket, he headed out the door.


	24. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! Thank you all so much for taking this journey with me, and for reading something this long.
> 
> Thanks also to JuniperQFox and my husband. This is the longest thing I've written since college, and it's because of you that it's actually decent. 
> 
> Sections of this chapter are paraphrased and quoted from the prologue to 'Rosemary and Rue'. All of that material is owned by Seanan McGuire, so please don't sue me.

  _June 9, 1995_

Toby’s phone was ringing. Again. She’d only had the damn thing for a month, and it was already complicating her life. She sighed and hit the flashing call button.

“Toby Daye Investigations, Toby Daye speaking, what is it now, Cliff.”

After a long, embarrassed pause, her fiancé asked “How did you know it was me?”

“Because only three other people have this number; one of them has never used it, and Uncle Sylvester and Ms. Winters know I’m on a stakeout, which means they’re not calling.” While the words were annoyed, the tone was purely affectionate. She had never been good at being mad at Cliff. Adjusting her mirror so that the restaurant she was watching remained in view, Toby asked “What is it this time?”

“Gilly wanted me to call and tell you that she loves you and hopes you’ll be home in time for dinner, and that you should bring back ice cream. Chocolate would be best.”

Toby smiled. “She’s watching you make the call, isn’t she?”

“You better believe it. If she wasn’t, I would’ve just called Information. But you know how she gets. She’s got ears like a rabbit.” Cliff chuckled. “That’s from your side of the family, you know.”

The smile on Toby’s face faded. Her side of the family was the entire problem, today.

“Most good things are.” She said absently, looking intently at the image in her rear-view mirror. Was that a person, or a smudge? Abandoning efforts to make the mirror behave, she grabbed a spray bottle of murky water from the glove box and liberally misted the glass. Sure enough, as soon as the water hit the mirror, the reflection of a tall red-headed man snapped into focus. Well shit.

“Cliff, the guy I’m after just came out of the restaurant. I gotta go. Tell Gilly I love her, and that I promise I’ll stop for ice cream on my way home.”

“You don’t love me?” he asked, mock wounded.

“I love you more than fairy tales,” she said, and hung up the phone, throwing it in the back seat. Time to deal with this.

The man- Papa- had tipped the valet before getting into a snazzy red sports car and pulling away. A car like that should be easy to follow anywhere, but as he turned the first corner it disappeared into thin air, leaving a cloud of smoke and rotting oranges in its wake. The oranges turned her stomach, while at the same time confirming that she was following the right person.

The car appeared a few blocks ahead, the outline blurry, like she was looking through water.

“Don’t think you can lose me like that.” Toby muttered. If anyone could see through his tricks, it would be her. That was part of why Uncle Sylvester had asked her to go after him in the first place. Though honestly, Toby would have done it whether he’d asked or not. She needed to be the one to find him, to give him the chance to explain, to fix things.

She’d never seen Uncle Sylvester so angry, and if Sir Etienne or one of the other knights found Papa first, she wasn’t sure what they would do. Not break the Law, surely, but as Gilly’s silly genie movie said, you’d be surprised what you can live through. 

He had to have an explanation. Toby couldn’t deny that when Aunt Luna and Raysel had disappeared three days ago, all of the evidence had pointed to Papa. He was the one who taught her how to investigate, and he knew that she had been working for Uncle Sylvester ever since he got her knighted. Papa had to know that Toby would see this was him. Either he was being framed, or he wanted her to find him. Both options meant the same thing; he needed her help, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Papa had grown more and more distant in his letters since she told him about Gilly. Much as Toby hated it, she hadn’t been overly surprised. He had always wanted what was best for her, and believed that being part of Faerie was what was best. She’d hoped that in time he would be able to make peace with her decision, but it hadn’t seemed to. When she was knighted she had invited him to the ceremony, thinking that seeing her take up a title and duty to the Summerlands would go some ways towards mending fences. Instead, he’d sounded almost angry in his letter, like he thought she’d chosen Uncle Sylvester over him, somehow. It didn’t make any sense.

And now this. Even if she could believe that Papa was angry with her, Toby would never, ever believe that he would hurt his family on purpose.

Ahead of her, Papa’s car switched lanes, heading towards Golden Gate Park. Toby followed carefully as he pulled into a parking lot and got out, human disguise in place. He set off towards the Japanese Tea Gardens. Pausing long enough to avoid suspicion, Toby got out and followed him, wincing with the effort it took to cast a don’t-look-here.

He did want her to find him, that was the only thing that made sense. There was only one way in and out of the Tea Gardens, and they were crawling with Lily and her people, all of whom would be much more likely to help Toby, a known friend, than any pure-blood noble. But as sure as she was, Toby still wanted as much of the element of surprise as she could get, and that made the pain of casting the don’t-look-here worth it.

Papa walked on for a good twenty minutes before stopping at the base of the arched moon bridge that was the gateway to the Fae side of Lily’s domain. Toby waited behind a small maple, contemplating whether or not she should move forward and approach him, when a laughing female voice rang out.

“Simon!” Papa turned, his face lit with a smile, and it caused Toby to grin back reflexively, seeing him so happy. Then she laid eyes on the speaker, and stiffened.

Oleander de Merelands walked towards him from the other side of the gardens. The difference between rumor and fact was a powerful one. Papa may have been rumored to be involved in unsavory things, but Oleander was wanted for violation of Oberon’s Law in half the kingdoms Toby could name. If she was here, it meant nothing good for Aunt Luna and Raysel. That woman was dangerous, she needed to get Papa away from her! Just as Toby was about to start forward, Papa spoke.

“It’s wonderful to see you, my dear,” he said, taking Oleander in his arms when she arrived at his side, and kissing her thoroughly. Toby wanted to look away, embarrassed to see them in a moment so intimate, but she forced herself to keep her eyes on them as she patted her pockets, trying to find her phone. She had to warn Sylvester. Remembering at last that it was in the back of her car, Toby started to back up, ready to run. Whatever Oleander had done to Papa, she wasn’t going to be able to break him out of it herself.

“This is getting dull, darling.” Oleander informed Papa, pouting in a way that would have been pretty if it hadn’t been for the malice behind it. “Finish it?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He raised his head, looking past the tree Toby was crouching behind and right into her eyes. “You can come out now. We’re ready.”

“Oh, oak and ash,” she hissed, and scrambled backward- or tried to. Instead she staggered into the open, dropping to her knees. Once there, Toby found she couldn’t move. Frantically she cast her eyes about for Lily. This was her fiefdom, surely she had to know that someone like Oleander was on her lands! But the only glimmers of magic were from the invisibility spell cloaking them all. There weren’t even any pixies in the trees. Papa walked toward her, his smile a poisonous match for Oleander’s. For the first time in her life, Toby was afraid of him.

Papa’s smile became almost warm as he knelt in front of her, placing one hand beneath her chin and raising it until their eyes were level. He had done this so many times before as Toby was growing up. It had always felt like an endearment. Now it felt like a threat.

“Hello my dear October,” he said. “Did you enjoy our little walk?”

“What…the…fuck?” Toby managed through gritted teeth.

Oleander laughed. “Oh, she’d even more provincial than you said. And so disrespectful!” Her expression darkened, mood shifting in a heartbeat. “Make her pay for that.”

“Of course,” Papa said. For a moment the most profound sadness filled his eyes. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Toby’s forehead, before whispering, “I’ll make sure someone finds your car in a week or two, once they’re ready to give up hope. Wouldn’t do to make your little family wait for you too long, now, would it?”

Panicking, Toby fought against the binding with all her strength. She had to get free, had to get home to Cliff and Gilly!

Papa stood, putting his hand on top or her head and shoving downward, whispering and moving his free hand in a gesture she couldn’t see. With one last almighty wrenching of her body, Toby made her head come up. She locked eyes with him once more, and managed to grate out “Papa…why?” before, quite suddenly, she forgot how to breathe.

* * *

 

The veil he had cast over the lot of them had faded enough that a mortal saw October flopping around on the pathway, and helpfully tipped her into the pond. Even as Oleander gasped her displeasure beside him, Simon smiled sadly. October would be long gone now, unreachable in the depths of the ponds. And surely by the time the spell wore off, he would have been able to change his Lady’s mind. Whatever she thought October had done to warrant needing to be eliminated, it couldn’t possibly be that serious.

He knew October would be mightily angry with him when she did break out, but it was necessary. What she wanted was irrelevant when it came to keeping her safe. One day, Simon hoped she would understand that.

He turned to Oleander, he look of triumph sliding of his face when he was met with her expression of bitter disappointment.

“She’s been so patient with you, Simon. She’s given you chance after chance, and still you would defy her? Over that changeling?” Oleander said in disbelief.

“Now my dear-” Simon began, feeling faintly alarmed. Surely he had been much more circumspect than that!

“No, Simon. She knows, don’t think you’ll be able to talk your way out of this one. Not when she’s gotten what she wanted from you, at long last.” Oleander shook her head, still looking so disappointed, as though he were a particularly slow child.

“Go,” she said. He stood rooted to the spot.

“You need to leave, now, before she knows what you’ve done.” Oleander reiterated. “I’ll clean up matters here, you needn’t worry. But you have to get out of this kingdom, to somewhere where she doesn’t hold sway.” Still Simon remained unmoving, his brain stuck, not quite able to process what he was being told.

“I don’t have orders to kill you yet.” Oleander said. “But that will probably change, very soon. It would be best if you don’t find out.” She turned away from him then, beginning to weave a complex cloaking spell over the whole of the Tea Gardens.

At last Simon found himself able to speak again.

“But- Luna and Raysel. We must-” He attempted.

“I said I would handle it. Now go!” Oleander said, looking at him briefly over her shoulder before turning her attention back to her spell.

With a last look at the spot where October had disappeared under the water, Simon Torquill turned, and started to run.

He would keep running for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me? 
> 
> I've known all along it would end this way, even back when I thought this was going to be like an 8k story. 
> 
> There also might be a bonus chapter coming (specifically how the kitchen conversation at the beggining of 'A Winter Long' goes in this universe), because TheQuitestLittleBucket was so excited about the idea, so it's encouraged me. But it'll be a while.
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and happy holidays!


End file.
